Fairly Odd Child
by DuncanIdaho2014
Summary: When Harry was ten, he received a Fairy Godparent. Desperate not to lose the magic, Harry wished for the being to teach him all he knew about magic. The results will shake the wizarding world to the core. M for future scenes and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Random idea, just ran with it, hope you like it.**

* * *

Harry Potter was a very sad little boy. It had nothing to do with his disposition; he was actually quite sweet, if a little shy. The simple fact was he had very little in his life to make him happy, and quite a lot to make him utterly miserable.

Harry lived with the Dursley family, his aunt, uncle, and cousin, in a cookie-cutter suburban house at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. His family did not love him. If anything, they loathed him.

His Aunt Petunia seemed to hate him for always reminding her of her no-good sister. She forced him to do the cooking, the cleaning, the washing, the gardening, and any other chore she could think of. This freed her up to watch her programs, spy on the neighbors, and gossip with the other ladies of the neighborhood, while also punishing Harry for having the nerve to be born.

Harry's Uncle Vernon was even worse. He was a short-tempered man whom had always resented Harry's presence in his house. Not only did Harry come from "a bad lot" (the Dursleys told Harry his parents were drunks that died in a car crash that was their own damn fault), but Vernon did not appreciate having another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, another person breathing his air. It wasn't like the Dursleys couldn't afford Harry (in fact, they went to great lengths to avoid spending any money on him at all), but every pence "wasted" on Harry was a pence that could have gone to pampering Vernon's wife or spoiling his son. Vernon blamed almost everything wrong in his life on Harry, and enjoyed thinking up elaborate, occasionally corporal punishments for every imagined slight. He never called Harry by name, just "Boy" or sometimes "Potter" if Vernon was particularly angry.

Dudley was simply a mean kid for whom his cousin was alternatively his favorite victim and favorite patsy. There was nothing Dudley liked more than chasing Harry around, beating him if and when Dudley caught him, and then pining a broken toy or bad grade on Harry to his parents. Dudley also delighted in scaring off any friends Harry might make at school, ensuring he was always at home for Dudley's convenience.

All in all, Harry had a hard life. One could easily forgive him for turning out as angry and bitter as his "family", but he didn't. He remained a kind, polite (if somewhat cheeky) little person. Like Cinderella, he endured abuse and toil with patience and hope, waiting for the day that things would get better.

And like Cinderella, he would receive help from a rather unexpected source.

It was the evening of Harry's 10th birthday. He hadn't gotten a party or a cake or even a "Happy Birthday." All he had received was a pair of Vernon's socks, and Harry wasn't sure they were meant as a gift or if his uncle just wanted them darned. Not that he had expected any attention anyway; when they weren't using him in some way, the Dursleys preferred to ignore Harry. He sat in the cupboard under the stairs, his "room" for as long as he could remember. Heaven forbid Harry dirty up the nice, clean guest room, or Dudley not have two whole rooms for all his stuff.

Harry was listening to the telly through the cupboard door. It was safer to deal with the muffling than sit in the living room and risk the Dursleys punishing him for having fun. Dudley had gone to his room (which had its own TV set), and Vernon was watching the news. Harry liked the news. It was nice to know there was a world out there beyond Privet Drive. The weatherman was also funny.

Out of nowhere, there was a puff of smoke, smack dab in the middle of the cupboard. Harry coughed, as much from surprise as the lungful of smoky air. Harry was just starting to worry there might be a fire when the smoke vanished as quickly as it appeared, disappearing far faster than it should have naturally. Harry blinked and realized, in the dim light of the hanging light bulb, that he was no longer alone.

The other person was very odd-looking. For one thing, he was only a foot tall. He appeared mostly like a human adult, just shrunk down to doll-like proportions. For another, he was floating in mid-air. A pair of butterfly wings were attached to his back, though they did not seem to flap in order to keep the little man off the ground. Even if he'd been wingless and normal-sized, he still would have been the strangest person Harry had ever seen. His hair, eyebrows, and even his eyelashes were a shade of blue Harry had only ever seen in candy floss. He wore an eye-searing tye-dye t-shirt, jeans with holes at the knees, and what looked like rubber slippers. In his hand he carried a black wand with a golden star at the end, and above his head floated a crown.

"Hi, Harry!" the little man spoke. He had a bright, cheerful voice that would not have seemed out of place on a cartoon snowman. "I'm Gadzooks! And I'm… your fairy godparent!" Balloons and confetti fell down from the ceiling, while the sound of a brass band filled the air. Gadzooks struck a pose, eager eyes watching for his new godchild's reaction.

Harry froze in place. Ignoring the impossible thing in front of him, he strained his ears. There was no way the Dursleys hadn't heard all that noise. The boy waited for the sound of Vernon's shouts and pounding footsteps. But there was nothing. Just the sound of the evening news.

Gadzooks realized the problem. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you worried about the Dursleys? Don't be, they can't hear us. I made sure!"

Harry focused on the floating midget. "How?"

"Magic, silly!"

"You have magic?" Harry's eyes were wide. The Dursleys were very dull people that didn't approve of imagination. Dudley was allowed his video games, but otherwise there was no fiction or fantasy material in the house. Coming face to face with a magical creature was beyond Harry's wildest dreams.

"Of course I have magic! I'm… your fairy godparent!" Another round of confetti burst into existence. The invisible band played a different fanfare, while tiny fireworks went off in the air behind Gadzooks.

Harry picked a piece of colored paper off his glasses. "What's a fairy godparent?" He was amazed, sure, but he was like a dog with a bone when it came to getting answers.

Gadzooks seemed a bit put out. "Wow, tough cupboard." He waved his wand, and all the decorations vanished. "It's like this, guv'nor. You're a very good kid living in a very bad home. The Fairy Council decided that you deserved a super special birthday present! So they picked me to be… your fairy godparent!" Gadzooks threw up a handful of glitter, which vanished before it hit the floor.

Harry, remembering his manners, gave hurried applause. Gadzooks grinned ear to ear.

"Um… what exactly does a fairy godparent do?"

"I grant wishes! Your wishes, actually."

"Like a genie?"

"Hah! Those poseurs? Those guys only give you three, and they try to trick you and twist your wish the whole time. Fairy godparents grant every wish their godchild makes, exactly how he or she meant it! Well, as long as it doesn't break Da Rulez."

"Da Rulez?"

Gadzooks waved his wand again. A huge purple tome as thick as the fairy was tall popped into being. "These are Da Rulez! It looks like a lot, but it all boils down to five big points. 1. Don't permanently harm anyone. 2. Don't cheat in a contest. 3. Don't mess with Death, that guy's SCARY. 4. Don't make anyone fall in or out of love. And 5. Don't reveal the secret of fairy godparents." The book vanished. "Of course, there are a lot of technicalities, loopholes, provisos and such, but those are the basics."

"What happens if a wish breaks a rule?" Harry asked, a tad worried. He knew the Dursleys HATED when a rule was broken.

Gadzooks smiled gently. "Then I don't grant the wish. At least, for the first four. If you let anyone know about me or fairy godparents in general, though, you'll forget you ever met me and all your wishes will be undone."

"Okay," Harry acknowledged solemnly. "But other than that, any wish I make, you'll grant?"

"Yep! Just say the magic words and I give the ol' wand a whirl."

Harry took a deep breath, like a diver before the plunge. "I wish I had a steak, please." Harry had spent the afternoon preparing and cooking three fillets and fixings for his relatives, while he'd only been allowed the vegetables Vernon and Dudley didn't want. He'd almost drooled at the table.

Gadzooks almost cried. Poor baby! "Coming right up, Harry." A swish, and in Harry's lap was a tray, upon which was cutlery and a plate with a bacon-wrapped filet mignon, mushrooms and a dab of butter on top, cooked exactly how Harry would like it. A glass of water, milk, and cola were provided as well.

Harry lit up like a Christmas tree. "Thank you, Gadzooks!" Harry spent the next ten minutes savoring every bite and sip. Gadzooks just watched the latest in the string of neglected, battered young souls it was his privilege to reward. Harry was a small boy, more due to borderline starvation than genes. He had messy black hair, dazzling green eyes, and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He'd have to bring up the soul shard attached to his charge at some point. Not tonight though. No need to overwhelm the boy.

When Harry finished, Gadzooks vanished the dishes. Harry started to bounce in place. It wasn't just the sugar and caffeine; Harry felt a bubbling excitement as the situation set in. He had a fairy godparent! He could make wishes and _they'd come true!_ Harry couldn't decide where to start.

"I wish the cupboard was a proper bedroom, please."

Poof! The cupboard transformed to the size of the master bedroom, complete with bed, dresser, closet, and bathroom. The bulb turned into four inset lights, the walls were painted Harry's favorite color, and a rug covered the hardwood floor. The ceiling was still slanted, but it was otherwise unrecognizable.

Harry, being a seriously deprived child, immediately chose to break in the bed by jumping on it. Once its bounciness had been thoroughly tested, Harry took off his horrible glasses.

"I wish I had perfect health, including vision and teeth, please!"

Gadzooks did his thing. Harry felt a tingling all over his body. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes he could SEE. Colors jumped out, little details were clear from a distance, and there wasn't an annoying rim to his field of view! Harry jumped to the floor, landing a bit sooner than he expected. A quick inspection revealed that Harry was a couple inches taller, and much more filled out than his former skin-and-bones frame. Dudley's secondhand clothes actually fit him, though to be fair they were two years old and his cousin hadn't REALLY started to balloon until last year. Speaking of ill-fitting clothes…

"I wish I had my own clothes, please."

"You don't have to keep saying 'please', Harry," Gadzooks said, waving his wand in a practiced motion.

"But it'd be rude not to," Harry protested, even as he checked the dresser and closet. He found a large collection of clothing and accessories, all to his taste and presumably his new size. Why anyone would need five pairs of shoes, Harry didn't know, but he wouldn't complain about his godparent's generosity.

"Alright, Harry, say what you want," the fairy all but cooed. His godson was adorable!

Harry had an idea. A crazy, potentially wonderful idea. "Gadzooks? Do wishes work on people? I mean, can you change personalities?"

"As long as it doesn't violate the Big Five, sure. I mean, I could never make someone do something they'd never, ever do. But you'd be amazed at the things your average person could do given the right motivation. So, I would say the base 10% of a person is untouchable, but the rest is for me to play with. Why?"

"I wish everyone on Earth was the nicest, happiest, best versions of themselves! Pretty please!" Harry's face was glowing with anticipation.

Gadzooks winced. "Sorry, guv'nor. That's against Da Rulez. There's a whole section in there on World Peace wishes. It's too big a risk. There's no way I could zap every single person AND alter their memories to not question the shift. Even magic has limits, Harry."

"Oh. I didn't think about the secret. Sorry." Harry was a bit down. So much for his plan to fix the world.

"No worries, Harry. You're new at this. You'll figure it out with time."

"Can I wish the Dursleys better, at least?"

"That, I can do."

"I wish Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley were as good as they could be, please. Oh, and Marge as well. Oh, oh, and I wish no one would question the changes in them or myself too."

"One negativity purge of the family tree, coming right up!"

Gadzooks raised his wand above his head, the star shining like a tiny sun. There was another puff of magic smoke, and then all was normal.

"Did it work?"

Gadzooks grinned and then vanished. Harry noticed a plush toy appearing on his bed just as there was a knock on the door.

"Harry?" his Aunt Petunia called, sticking her head in the room. Harry almost didn't recognize her. Her face hadn't changed, but she was _smiling_ at him. Not the fake smile she used at parties; a genuine, loving smile she reserved just for Dudley. "Do you need me to tuck you in?"

Of all the magical displays Gadzooks had given, Harry found this to be the most unbelievable. Feeling like he were in a dream, Harry answered "No, thank you, Aunt Petunia."

"Alright, dear. Bedtime in ten minutes."

Vernon stomped past the door. "Good night, Harry!" he called without a trace of sarcasm.

"Good night, Uncle Vernon."

Harry's newly-enhanced hearing picked up the two talking as they walked up the stairs.

"You know, darling, you could do with losing a few pounds. It scares me when you get all red and out of breath."

"Can't argue there, my pet. We'll turn Dudley's second bedroom into a gym. We'll have a garage sale to clear it out, get our money's worth. Might even bring the boys into it, teach 'em how to take care of themselves."

"I'll look for cookbooks. There's got to be someone that figured out how to make thin taste good."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. He came to a realization.

"I LOVE magic."

The next day was surreal. Aunt Petunia woke him up gently. Vernon didn't berate him once over breakfast. Dudley was FRIENDLY, talking to him and offering to share his things. Harry had help doing the chores, for Heaven's sake!

"What did you _do_ to them?" Harry asked Gadzooks, currently disguised as a fake pair of glasses.

"The long answer involves a lot of legilimancy, thaumaturgy, and brain chemistry. The short answer is everyone has two voices in their head, one suggesting right and the other suggesting wrong. I just turned the 'bad' voice low as I could and cranked the 'good' voice as high as it went. The rest is up to them."

Harry could hardly believe his luck. "Thank you so much, Gadzooks. This has been the best day of my life."

"Just doing my job, Harry. And I love my work. I'm happy I could help."

"You won't ever leave, right? We get to be friends and make wishes forever, don't we?"

Gadzooks felt his heart break a little. He HATED this conversation. "I'm afraid not, Harry."

"What? Why?" Harry demanded, terrified of losing his first friend.

Gadzooks appeared before his godson. "I'm a fairy godparent, Harry. I give abused and mistreated children everything they ever dreamed of. I help them build confidence, get positive experiences, make up for the sucky hand life dealt them. And it always ends one of two ways. Either they get careless and reveal the secret, or they learn to stand on their own two feet." Gadzooks gave a teary smile. "There aren't that many fairy godparents, Harry. But there are _so many_ kids that deserve one. I can't stay with you if another childe out there needs me more."

Harry sniffed, but he put on a brave face. "I get it. I can't keep you all to myself. It's just… I don't want to lose you."

Gadzooks kissed his godchild's brow and gave him a hug. "Don't worry, Harry. We've only been together a day. You'll need me for a while yet."

"But you'll leave. One day. And you'll take the magic with you."

"Oh, Harry, did they not tell you? You're a wizard. You had magic long before I showed up."

"What?!"

"You're a wizard, Harry. A human boy capable of magic. Your mother and father were magical, too. They were killed by an evil man during a war. I'm sorry the Dursleys hid this from you…"

Harry barely heard Gadzooks. After a second, he wasn't surprised at all that his relatives had lied to him. Besides, being a wizard explained SO MUCH about their behavior and the weird things that happened around him. His mind raced over quite another thought. Harry could do magic. Magic was AMAZING. Harry didn't know magic. Gadzooks did.

"Gadzooks," Harry stated, a mad gleam in his eye. "I wish for you to teach me everything you know about magic."

Gadzooks froze. "Harry Potter… I do believe you just beat out Timmy Turner for 'Most Interesting Wish of All Time'."

"Is that good or bad?"

"We'll see, Harry. We'll see."

* * *

The next year was the happiest of Harry's life. Harry quite enjoyed his new relationships with his family. The fact he'd essentially ordered them to be magically brainwashed didn't bother him in the slightest. To go from some of the nastiest people in Britain to the cheeriest wasn't just a miracle, it was a public service!

Uncle Vernon and he would never be the closest. Harry could never entirely forget how the man had tormented him, and Vernon just couldn't bring himself to love anyone that wasn't his blood. Still, they were quite cordial. They were perfectly polite to each other, Harry felt confident asking Vernon for help with something, and the head of the Dursley clan invited Harry along to his and Dudley's workouts and father-son outings.

Dudley was transformed. There was a rough patch at the start when diet and exercise was forced on him while expensive gifts fell by the wayside. But he adapted, learned discipline and self-control, and was all the better for it. Harry and he bonded a great deal, becoming close as brothers. Harry was amazed to discover Dudley was almost as shy and awkward as Harry himself, only that he'd covered it up with brashness. He really had been a good egg from the start, just molded and twisted by his parents' bad example. Between the two of them and a much more supportive Vernon and Petunia, Dudley went from school bully to school star. His grades would never be the best, but he had a great circle of friends rather than minions, and his athletic performance improved by the day.

Aunt Petunia became the mom Harry always wanted. Every drop of maternal care and doting smothering she'd showered on Dudley was now shared with him, complete with embarrassing nicknames. The two often bonded while taking care of the house, doing daily chores with the excitement and energy of children at play. If anyone had ever told Harry he'd look forward to polishing the furniture, he'd have thought them stark raving mad. A combination of Gadzooks' magic and time led to her overcoming her envy and resentment of Lily. She opened up to Harry about her heritage, letting him know all kinds of stories about his birth mother and the magic she performed.

Harry's favorite person, though, remained his fairy godparent/teacher, Gadzooks. He had all the wisdom of a sage and yet the excitability of a toddler. He had such an exotic take on the world, perhaps because he was one of the few that could see it from the outside. Fairies had their own realm called Fairy World, reached by a rainbow bridge, where they were born, learned, and lived when not on assignment. Gadzooks had considered one of the major milestones in Harry's magical education poofing to Fairy World unassisted.

Speaking of which, the lessons were wonderful fun. There was not a single thing about magic Harry didn't find fascinating, and he applied himself ten times harder to Gadzooks' lessons than his schoolwork. For the record, he got straight A's once he didn't have to worry about outshining Dudley.

Harry learned early on that comparing Fairy magic and human magic was similar to comparing quantum physics to arithmetic. Of course, fairies had the advantage of being conscious concentrations of pure magic, whereas humans just had a little spark hidden inside all the flesh and blood. It was a case of the blind men and the elephant; fairies just KNEW while humans had to work out little bits and bobs through trial and error and piece it all together. But with Gadzooks as his guide, Harry learned the secrets of wielding his gift, slowly but surely becoming as intuitive and knowledgeable as any fairy godparent.

The Dursley family took Harry's supernatural powers in stride, treating it as a great family secret. It made Vernon uncomfortable at times, but Petunia took it all with a nostalgic smile, and Dudley thought having a wizard in the family was the coolest thing EVER! Especially after Harry enchanted his army men to walk, talk, and wage war for Dudley's entertainment.

Of course, Harry had to pass it off as all natural talent. Gadzooks had to assure him many times that keeping the secret was _good_ lying.

Dudley's 11th birthday dawned clear and sunny. Harry rolled out of bed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the result of a wish to always be wide awake when sleep ended. "Morning, Gadzooks!"

"Goooood morning, Harry!" his godparent replied, poofing out of plush form.

Harry tapped the top of a model skull. "Morning, Tom."

Two pinpricks of ruby red light appeared in the eye sockets.

"And what, pray tell, is so good about it?"

Harry had been working on his soulscape when he'd found Tom. He'd appeared to be a bloody, filthy little baby curled into a ball on the 'floor'. Harry was quite curious about this thing lying around his soul, and used his best Mind and Scrying magic to divine who and what it was.

The information he'd gotten had made him vomit.

Lord Voldemort had been an extremely sick, angry, broken man.

Harry was at first horrified to find a chunk of his parents' murderer's soul attached to his own. He'd very nearly destroyed Tom then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to kill something so helpless. Besides, as the Dursley's example showed, ANYONE could be redeemed, given the right circumstances. Instead, he'd had Gadzooks transfer the Horcrux (technical term for a soul shard anchored to an object not its original body) to the skull. Harry's head was his own, thank you very much.

Though he kept a copy of all Tom's knowledge to go through later. It's only stealing if you get caught, right?

Harry had used time, care, and his own magic to restore the damaged splinter of Tom's soul to a sane, whole being. Tom had rebelled at first, furious at being 'held captive' by a 'bloody prophesied brat', but he had very little magical capacity as an animate skull. What's more, even if he'd had his own body and wand, his power would have paled in comparison to Harry's.

He was a VERY diligent student.

Harry had opted not to do a negativity purge on Tom as Gadzooks had done with the Dursleys. For some reason, he wanted Tom to get better all on his own. It felt important that Harry save him from himself the old-fashioned way. So Harry talked at, to, and with Tom, sharing his day and offering an ear, trying to give the undead man the one thing he'd never had: a friend.

Progress was slow, but it was there. Tom now considered Harry a reluctant companion rather than a jailor he wanted to kill as slowly and painfully as possible. Harry had hopes for the future, and one day planned to reunite Tom with the other fractions of his soul (really, what HAD he been thinking?) and resurrecting him as a force for good rather than evil.

Gadzooks kindly encouraged Harry to keep these thoughts to himself. Others in the know would find bringing back a Dark Lord to be… polarizing.

Harry smiled at Tom. "Today is Dudley's birthday. We get to go to the zoo and see all the animals. There's even a reptile house, so you can talk to all the snakes. Doesn't that sound like a good day?"

"If it does, then it is only by comparison to another day stuck in the purgatory that is this house."

Harry grinned. That was Tom's way of saying 'yes'.

Harry dressed in running clothes, before going outside. He warmed up, waiting for his uncle and cousin. They both emerged, looking a bit more groggy than Harry. The Dursley men were a tad broader around the shoulders and quite a bit narrower about the waist than this time last year. Petunia enforced strict portion control and Harry (voluntarily) cooked tasty, nutritious meals. Combined with five workouts a week, all three of them had lost all excess fat and built lean muscle. Harry and Dudley naturally didn't go as hard as Vernon did, but the boys still found themselves starting to admire themselves in the bathroom mirror.

They wordlessly jogged around the neighborhood a few times after wishing Dudley a happy birthday. Back at the house, they trudged up to the gym for aerobics, calisthenics, and mild weight work. That done, they all retreated to their own shower, the smell of breakfast motivating them to get clean fast.

The kitchen and living room were festooned with homemade signs and streamers, a full English Breakfast complete with whole-wheat pancakes laid out. Petunia greeted them all with a hug and kiss. Dudley half-heartedly whined "Mum,", Harry enjoyed the novelty that still hadn't worn off, and Vernon took a couple 'liberties' with the kiss. That was the one side-effect not even Gadzooks had seen coming. Sure, they were married, but a surge in positivity had led to Vernon and Petunia being much more obviously 'in love'. The youngsters found it both sweet and sickening to varying degrees. Vernon no longer resembling a walrus certainly helped.

Breakfast was devoured swiftly, and Dudley fell on the presents with glee. He got a pair of boxing gloves from Harry, who figured he should put his old love of punching to good use. Vernon got Dudley a football, rugby ball, and cricket set, as well as several computer games. Dudley thanked his mum for the clothes and books, only 30% faking.

The final box was rather large. When Dudley eagerly opened it, a bunch of blue and pink balloons popped out. The only other contents were a grainy black photograph.

"What's this?" Dudley asked, holding it up. Harry's jaw dropped. He actually paid attention in Health.

"This is really more of a Christmas present, dear. Your father and I just thought we should tell you today." Petunia beamed and clutched Vernon's hand. "You're going to be a big brother!"

It took a bit for Dudley to understand, but then he was over the moon. He babbled excitedly about having a baby brother or sister, squinting at the sonogram picture in his hand. Vernon smiled proudly while Petunia laid a hand on her abdomen, which had a bulge you'd easily miss if you weren't looking. Harry made his congratulations, happy to see his family happy.

Now they knew what Vernon and Petunia did when they had Mrs. Figg look after them.

In short order, a gaggle of Dudley's friends arrived. Harry grabbed Tom, stuck him to his shoulder and cloaked him with magic, and filed into one of the two cars driving everyone. Harry enjoyed the experience, chatting amiably with the other kids but mostly focusing on the animals. He and Tom perked up when they made it to the Reptile House. Harry lagged behind the group, letting his dour friend enjoy conversation with his favorite creatures. Tom just loved snakes.

They reached a boa constrictor that was easily the biggest snake in the room.

*Hello, glorious serpent.* Tom hissed. He had a very cultured, even melodramatic way of speaking.

*Someone there?* the great snake lifted its head.

*Hello. That was my friend Tom. He's invisible right now. I'm Harry!* Harry greeted.

*Huh. Two humans that can actually speak, one of them camouflaged. This is the most excitement I've had all year. Pleased to meet you, Tom and Harry.*

*You honor us.*

*Nice to meet you too!*

They exchanged words. It became clear that Diablo, as he called himself, was very sad. He hated being stuck in a zoo, day after day, people sticking their faces at his cage. Tom solemnly agreed it sounded quite lonely. Harry, not wanting to see either sad, used magic to set off the sprinklers. In the confusion, he silently poofed the three of them to Brazil.

*What happened?* Diablo hissed, looking at his new surroundings in disbelief.

*I took us to Brazil. You'll be much more at home here.* Harry bounced on his feet, knowing he had seconds before his absence was noted. *If you ever need me, say my name three times fast. Bye, amigo!* With that, Harry vanished.

Tom was in a contemplative mood back at the house.

"Why did you do that for the snake?"

"It was the right thing to do."

"How did you know?"

"It felt right. That's really all I can say."

"It belonged to the zoo. That's stealing, a crime."

"First off, he's a he, not an it. Second, the whole point of zoos is conservation and welfare of animals. Diablo will be much happier and more likely to make little hatchlings in the wild. And third, right and wrong doesn't run parallel to legal and illegal. I'm fine breaking rules or even laws if it does more good than harm."

"That's exactly what I used to think," Tom said faintly.

"Yes, but in my defense, I haven't ever ritualistically sundered the metaphysical heart of my being and compromised my sanity in a misguided bid for immortality." Harry drawled blandly. He never wasted an opportunity to point out to Tom just how stupid he had been.

"I was only sixteen. Plenty of people make reckless decisions at sixteen." The eyes glowed brighter in a way quite like a blush. "Anyway, what if the snake gets killed out there? Is it still the right thing?"

"I think both Diablo and I would agree that a brief life of happiness is better than a long life of sadness." Harry patted the skull's crown. "There ARE things worse than death, Tom. You'll realize that, one day."

"Please. I humor your delusions, but kindly do not foist them on me."

"I should make you watch _Sophie's Choice_."

"Um, Harry?"

Harry looked up at Gadzooks. He took one look at the fairy's expression and felt his heart sink.

"It's time, isn't it?"

"Sorry, guv'nor. I've got nothing left to teach you. You may want me, but you no longer need me."

"I know." Harry was resigned. He'd known it was coming. Didn't make it hurt any less. "Take good care of the next one. They must be something special, if they got you."

"Will do. And remember, you can write to me in Fairy World."

There was a moment of awkward tension.

Harry hugged Gadzooks close to his heart. His shirt got a little wet. Then he let go, and with a poof his godparent was gone.

Harry was in a slump for a week. Even the last day of school and the start of summer break couldn't lighten his mood. His family tried their best to cheer him up. Petunia consulted him on how to paint the nursery (the gym was to be moved to the garage). Vernon offered to take Harry to the playground. Dudley innocently asked if they could go inside a storybook or back in time or something. Harry brightened when he spent time with them, but sank back into depression afterwards. He missed his first and best friend.

Tom ended up being the one to snap Harry out of it. The fragment of a wizard had not been gentle. He gave a scathing diatribe about how foolish Harry was being, how he was acting like a spoiled child, and how disrespectful he was being to Gadzooks. Ironically, the harsh words made Harry feel better. He'd agreed with each of Tom's points and set out to behave in a manner his godparent would be proud of. It was hard to tell whether Tom was pleased or put out at the result.

A month passed, 4 Privet Drive slipping back into suburban bliss. Petunia busied herself preparing for the baby. Vernon happily helped Dudley learn to box, pleased as punch his son was interested in 'the sport of MEN'. And Harry split his time between reading, practicing magic, and rehabilitating Tom.

It was a week before Harry's birthday, and the family was having breakfast. They heard the mail flap clatter, and a few seconds later the mail floated in, placing itself next to its intended recipient.

"Thank you, Harry," Vernon said, no longer even blinking at this mild bit of hocus pocus. "Oh, Marge is ill. Ate a funny whelk."

"At least she has the Colonel to look after her," Petunia said, leafing through her magazines.

Dudley had torn into a big, official-looking envelope. A packet fell out, along with a letter. Dudley read only the first line before whooping. "I got into CLS!"

His parents lit up and congratulated their son. The City of London School was a prestigious school on the Thames for boys 11 and up. Vernon had originally intended Dudley to attend his alma mater, Smelting's, but upon reflection realized the school encouraged 'bad habits'.

Harry didn't join in. His eyes were transfixed on the parchment in his hands.

_Mr. Harry Potter_

_The Bedroom under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging, Surrey_

Petunia gasped when she looked over. "Oh! Harry got his Hogwarts letter!"

"Hogwarts?" Dudley asked. "The wizard school? Does Harry even have to go? He's brilliant at magic already!"

"My mum and dad went there," Harry spoke up, turning it over. His finger traced the wax seal. "I want to go, see where they met, make friends with other magical kids. Besides, it might be fun to learn the normal way to do magic, with a wand and everything. I mean, assuming I got in."

Vernon couldn't resist a scoff at the word 'normal' applied to witchcraft. "Well, we'll never know if you don't open it."

As Harry opened the envelope, Tom made his own comments, floating invisibly beside Harry as always. "Not get in, pah. Your parents were Head Boy and Girl of their year. You were on the roll before they finished tying off your umbilical cord."

Harry scaned his acceptance letter and supply list that came out. "Well, I'm in. And the Headmaster has a great many titles."

"We'll have to go to Diagon Alley for your supplies," Petunia said, eyes lost in memory. "It's the wizard shopping district in London. Come to think of it, Harry, you probably should go visit Gringotts bank anyway. I've no idea what happened with your parents' finances, and I remember your father saying he came from old money."

Vernon perked up. "Well, if we're visiting a bank, I'm coming along. I don't want them messing about with my nephew's inheritance. I'll do the talking. I deal with bankers all the time."

"Vernon… the bank is run by goblins," Petunia said gently.

"If they count change for a living, then they're bankers. And I know bankers!" Vernon looked a bit pale though.

"I'm coming too!" Dudley invited himself. "I want to see the magic side of Britain! Besides, Aunt Lily was… Muggleborn, that's the word, right? So the baby or my kids might be too. I should come along so I know where to go!"

"Well, looks like we're having a family outing today!" Petunia proclaimed.

After cleaning up and getting ready, the Dursleys and Harry got in the car and drove for London. Petunia, with her gossip-honed memory, directed her husband to a lot and led them a couple blocks to a dingy pub. None of the other people on the street seemed to know it was there.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron. It's protected so Muggles can't see it unless they already know it's here. The entrance to the Alley is in the back."

"So you have to go through the pub before you can get any shopping done? The owner must make a mint," Vernon thought aloud.

Harry brushed his fringe over his forehead. Gadzooks didn't exactly keep in touch with human wizards, but Harry's file had noted he was famous for the scar where Voldemort's Killing Curse had reflected. The scar had faded to white after Tom was removed, but Harry didn't want to take chances.

They walked in and took a second to just absorb the incredible sight. Petunia was struck by how identical the place was to when she was a little girl accompanying Lily. Vernon did his best not to sneer at the ridiculous fashions. Dudley's eyes honed in on every casual use of magic such as self-cleaning tables and drinks that gave off sparks. Harry, with his senses entwined with fairy magic, noted the auras and constructs of the room. To Harry, magic wasn't just a tingle at the back of his neck. It was color to be admired, textures to be felt, music to be sampled, a bouquet to be savored, even morsels to be tasted. The Leakey Cauldron was filled to the brim with magic of a very different kind than he was used to, but no less wonderful or beautiful.

A bartender with a head bald and wrinkled as a walnut leaned toward them. "Muggleborn?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Of a sort," Petunia said, unconsciously resting a hand on her bump. "My sister was and when she died in the war my nephew came to live with us. He got his Hogwarts letter this morning."

"I see. My condolences. Well, Alley's through the back. Do you remember the sequence?"

"Yes, yes. Thank you." Nervous despite herself, Petunia led them to the back alley. She looked from the brick wall to Harry. "Harrikins, I don't suppose you could take over here?"

"No problem, Auntie." So saying, Harry tapped the bricks above the trash bin that glowed to his sight. The bricks of the wall rearranged themselves, creating an archway that led to the single most fantastic street in London.

"Blimey!"

"Cor!"

"It's beautiful!"

Petunia grinned at her boys. "Welcome, all, to Diagon Alley."

They walked forward in a daze, flummoxed by the shops and the people shopping them. They passed a broomshop with flying broomsticks, an apothecary with a bubbling cauldron in the sign, and a menagerie with animals in the storefront straight out of a storybook. Petunia led them all like a mother duck, stopping in front of the white marble edifice of Gringotts.

"Ah! The lines are a bit wonky, but this is a top-notch bank if ever I saw one," Vernon declared.

"Thank you, sir," one of the goblin guards grumbled, making Vernon jump.

They stepped through both sets of double doors, taking time to read the Goblins' warning, and then stepped into an immaculate atrium. Except for the size and faces of the tellers, it looked exactly how they'd always imagined a Victorian bank. Harry noted the distinct shift In energies as they crossed the threshold. Goblin magic differed greatly from wizard magic. More robust if less versatile, in earthen tones and deep octaves.

They waited patiently in the busy line, other families having gotten their Hogwarts letters that morning as well. They finally came up to a desk taller than Aunt Petunia, manned by a white-haired goblin. It deliberately ignored them while it finished signing something before leering down at them. "What do you want?" he barked.

Vernon assumed the confident persona that had seen him make Vice President at Grunning's. "Vernon Dursley here, escorting my nephew, Harry Potter. We wish to speak to his account manager at earliest convenience."

The goblin narrowed its eyes down at Harry. "And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"

Harry silently reached into his pocket and wished for his bank key. He noted how his fairy-like magic wove around the Goblin wards like they weren't even there. He handed the small gold locking device to his uncle, who put it on the teller's desk.

The gobin regarded the key with a raised brow. *I'll be damned. It's real,* he muttered in Goblin. Harry was very grateful to Gadzooks for granting his wish to know every language. He'd had a headache like nobody's business for a few hours, but it'd been worth it. The teller cleared his throat and barked a few orders behind his desk. "Follow Griphook. He will take you to the Potter Account Manager. Next!"

Vernon barely had time to take back the key and hand it to Harry when another goblin, this one with black hair but the same wrinkled features, appeared from behind the desk. "Follow, please." With no more than that, the diminutive creature took off at a surprising pace, Harry and the Dursleys following belatedly behind. They followed Griphook through a marble labyrinth of hallways until they arrived at a door labeled "Senior Accountant Razorteeth".

"Here you are. Just walk in, you're expected," Griphook said tersely. Goblins, as a species, didn't seem to have the patience for niceties.

"Thank you. For your troubles," Petunia told him, polite even in the face of rudeness, handing over a Silver Sickle an old witch had pressed into her hand with a smile at her bump. Griphook looked amazed to have received a tip. Maybe that wasn't a part of goblin culture? Harry added another subject to his ever-growing research list and followed his Uncle Vernon into his accountant's office.

The office was richly appointed, with a receiving area with human-sized chairs. A gobin sat at a mahogany desk scaled for his person, and looked up at them with a particularly sharp smile. "Mr. Potter, at last. We have much to discuss."

What followed was an hour of financial jargon that largely went over Harry's head. He let Vernon do most of the talking. Apparently his parents hadn't left a will, so all their assets had gone to him as their sole heir. His understanding, at the end, came down to three points. 1: he was rich. Like, 'could not piss it away if he tried' rich. 2: he had three vaults. His Trust Vault, refilled to 5000 Gold Galleons every birthday; his parent's vault, filled with their life savings and several personal possessions; and the Potter Family Vault, which he could only visit until he reached his majority at age 17, a quirk of Magical Britain.

Harry considered his options. "Mr. Razorteeth, I'd like to have the monetary contents of my parents' vault converted into British Pounds and transferred to my Uncle Vernon's account. I'd also like for all the items in storage to be transferred to 4 Privet Drive. Please deduct all expenses from my Trust Vault."

"Harry, dear, you don't have to…" Petunia protested, aware of just how much money Lily and James must have saved up.

"No, but I want to. Consider it a baby shower gift for my unborn cousin. Now, Mr. Razorteeth, does the wizarding world have the equivalent of a credit or debit card? I'd prefer not having to return to my vault every time I run out of gold," Harry stated confidently.

"Indeed we do, for a nominal fee, and the purchase includes a free moleskin pouch for when actual gold is called for. Shall I charge it to your Trust Vault?" Razorteeth asked with his sharp grin.

"Please do," Harry requested.

After collecting the account information from Vernon, Razorteeth vanished into a side room. He returned ten minutes later with a matte-gold card indistinguishable from a standard muggle c ard, except for the stylized "G" as the logo. He also had what looked like a hairy purse.

"If you would, Mr. Potter, place one drop of blood on the caard, it will bond to you and the transaction will be complete." Razorteeth offered a dagger.

Wondering if every goblin kept six-inch knives in their desk, Harry pricked his finger and touched the card.

There was a blinding flash of light and a thunderous boom.

Harry blinked and looked at the blackened rectangle seared into Razorteeth's desk. "Oh, bother."

"What the bloody hell was that?" Vernon demanded, arms wrapped around his wife and son.

Razorteeth looked gobsmacked. "I… I really don't know. That's never happened before."

"Terribly sorry, everyone. I forgot how potent my blood can be," Harry spoke up. "Remember when I pricked my finger on the rosebush and overnight it took over the back yard?"

"Oh yes, that was exciting," Petunia said faintly.

"I still don't think we had to kill it," Dudley said sullenly.

"Son, it was talking about conquering the street and establishing the Rose Kingdom."

"Since when did saying something get you the death penalty? What about free speech, Dad?"

"The ROSEBUSH was TALKING."

"My apologies, Mr. Razorteeth." Harry waved his hand, cleaning the scorch marks and conjuring another card identical to the last. This time, Harry purposefully desaturated the magic from his finger before he tapped the card. It glowed alarmingly bright, but the glow faded and the blood had vanished. "There. No harm done."

"How did you do that?" Razorteeth gaped. "You don't have a wand. This office is warded." The goblin stared at the card. "By Ragnok, it has goblin magic on it."

Harry shrugged. "I started experimenting with magic a year ago. If I break the rules, it's only because I don't know them. I just copied the original."

Razorteeth reached up to adjust his collar. "Mr. Potter… I would very much appreciate it if we could meet again soon to discuss your talents. I strongly suspect Gringotts could make use of them."

"Like a summer job?"

"Sure. Let's call it that. If that is all, I believe our business is done here."

Harry pocketed the card and bag. Harry ushered his family out. As he was shutting the door, he heard Razorteeth mutter in Goblin *What manner of creature is that boy?*

Unable to resist, Harry stuck his head in. *I'm Harry. I"m a fairly odd child.* Then he shut the door.

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**Please fave, follow, or review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Lot of responses very early. And overwhelmingly positive feedback. I'm humbled and honored, truly I am. Hope this chapter is good as the last.**

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"I have never seen a goblin speechless," Tom remarked invisibly from Harry's shoulder.

"It was just a little prank, didn't expect him to turn that pale," Harry excused. "I guess most 11-year-olds don't know Goblin."

"The proper term is Gobldygook, and that's their word for their language, it's not an insult on our part," Tom explained.

Harry caught up with the Dursleys, who were following Griphook back towards the main atrium of the bank. "What're we doing next?" Harry asked his uncle, presumably the one in charge.

"We're leaving your Auntie and Dudley in the waiting area, and then you and I are going down to your Trust to get some… gold in case some shops don't take the card you got," Vernon answered.

Dudley seemed very put out. "How come I can't ride the minecart? According to mum, it's better than a rollercoaster ride!"

Vernon looked a tad green, but was steady-voiced as he said "You, young man, need to look out for your pregnant mother. And she can't ride the cart in her condition."

Aunt Petunia laid a hand on Dudley's shoulder. "Sorry, Diddikins. I hate to spoil your fun."

"I'll show you the memory later," Harry whispered in his cousin's ear.

Dudley cheered up after that.

Griphook, having been listening, led Petunia and Dudley to a sitting area with comfy chairs. Them seated, Griphook took Harry and Vernon to the carts. The transition from marble to raw stone was a bit jarring. Loading them into a cart, Griphook set them off flying. It was indeed like a rollercoaster ride, only longer, faster, and with less safety regulations. Vernon didn't scream, but he looked very pale when the cart finally came to a stop. "Vault 687," Griphook announced, hopping onto the walkway in front of the vault Harry and his uncle joined the goblin, who held out his hand. "Key, please," He asked perfunctorily. Harry handed over the key, which Griphook expertly fitted into a small keyhole. The sound of a great lock opening came from within the door, and the Potter Trust Vault was opened for the first time since Harry was born.

Harry gaped at the stacks of gold Galleons stacked to the ceiling, flanked by silver Sickles and bronze Knuts. "This is all mine? I really am rich!"

"And this is just the trust fund, imagine your family's main account! No wonder your father was smug at that one dinner we had," Vernon mused.

Harry frowned. "I hope he was spoiled sweet instead of rotten. I'd hate to find out my dad was a bully or entitled snob."

Vernon patted his shoulder. "You'll have to ask people in your world that knew them, Harry. For now, let's just fill that fuzzy bag with some of this gold and get back to the surface." Harry's uncle turned to Griphook. "I don't suppose we can go a bit slower on the return journey?"

"One speed only," Griphook said with a goblin's grin.

Harry quickly stuffed a few armfulls of Galleons into his moleskin pouch before enjoying an equally thrilling (and nauseating in the case of Uncle Vernon) ride back. Aunt Petunia and Dudley stood up to greet them and then they soon left Gringotts Bank."

"Well, what's next on the docket?" Vernon asked.

Harry considered the next few hours logically. "We should get my luggage first. Then we can cart all the purchases around instead of drowning in bags."

"Superb idea! Good thinking, Harry. Now, I don't suppose this ruddy alley has a map?" Vernon eyed the chaos of Diagon Alley with a disturbed air. Harry had desensitized him to magic, but this was something else entirely. This was Wizarding Britain, a parallel world he'd stumbled into without a compass.

"That place is named Trunks' and Trunks' Trunks," Dudley pointed out.

The family of four (soon to be five) walked over to the relatively normal looking store. They entered, and a musical chime came from the bell over the door. In fact, it played a short movement before it stopped. Petunia tilted her head. "Rachmaninoff?"

"Good ear," complimented a grey-haired man with an easy grin. "I'm Tiberius Trunks IX. Welcome to my humble shop. Hogwarts, I presume?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm used to being the first stop for muggleborns after Gringotts. Quite reasoned and prepared, most muggles, I find. Anyway, I have your standard trunk right here," Mr. Trunk said, leading them over to a standard leather trunk with brass fixings.

Harry glanced at his Aunt and Uncle before deciding it was HIS money to spend. "Say, hypothetically, I wanted your best trunk."

The salesman rose a brow. "Then, young master, I'd need to know you have to gold to pay for it."

Harry pulled out the Gringotts card, strongly suspecting it was a status symbol. "Will this do?"

The man's eyes lit up. "Ah, a card holder. You lot ARE rich. In that case, let me fetch something from the back!"

Once he left, Petunia muttered "I thought Razorteeth said it was a nominal fee!"

"Apparently 'nominal' is a relative term, my pet," Vernon replied.

Mr. Trunk returned with a trunk of obviously higher quality than the standard. "First off, built-in Featherweight Charm. Like carrying air. And a fully expanded interior!" The man popped open the top and, to their amazement, jumped in and vanished. His voice called up to them. "Climb on it! Watch the steps, missus!"

Climbing down a short ladder, Harry and the Dursleys found themselves in a space roughly the size of their first floor. It was empty, lighting provided by a few orbs Mr. Trunk had conjured, but it was still quite expansive for the inside of a trunk.

"It's like the TARDIS or Mary Poppins' bag!" Dudley exclaimed.

The salesman shrugged, figuring those were muggle references. "2000 square feet of fully-customizable space. Just don't try fitting another expanded space inside here. The two would cancel out… messily."

Harry nodded, eyeing the empty corners and seeing potential. "I'll take it!"

"Excellent. I'll run up the sale and you can carry it out immediately!" They all climbed out of the expanded trunk and Mr. Trunk gleefully ran Harry's card. "Oh, I almost forgot. You get a complimentary imprinting with purchase. Your initials, please?"

"HJP," Harry told, hoping the man wouldn't guess his identity.

He didn't. He flicked his wand and the letters appeared in gold above the handle. "Have a nice day!" he said with a wave.

"I think we fulfilled his weekly quota in ten minutes," Vernon observed.

"Who cares? I have a portable house now!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"You'll be wanting your want next, I imagine," Petunia said sweetly.

Harry shrugged. "Sure, let's get it out of the way. I'm fine without one, but I suppose classes require one."

"Can I try a wand too? I know it won't work but what's the harm in trying?" Dudley begged.

"I'll make you a wand with preset spells when we get home. Consider it a late birthday present," Harry counter-offered.

Dudley was appeased, and they walked into Ollivander's just as another clearly muggle family was walking out.

"Oh, hello, are you two wizards? I just found out I'm a witch today and I'm ever so excited because no one in my family has ever been magical before! I'm Hermione Granger by the way!" a bushy-haired girl with large front teeth said in a rush.

Harry blinked. "Um, hello Hermione. I'm Harry, I'm a wizard. This is Dudley and my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, they're muggles. Well, we're not sure about the little one in Aunt Petunia's tummy."

Vernon seized on the chance for 'normal' conversation like a lifeline. "Vernon Dursley. I'm a VP at Grunning's. What business you in?"

"Dan Granger. My wife Emma and I are both dental practitioners," the patriarch of the other family stated. "This must have been as much as a surprise for you as it was to us."

Dudley pulled a face as the grown-ups talked. "Your parents are dentists? How did you ever get any candy?"

"I won some at school, and they let me have sugar on the holidays. I just have to brush extra hard," Hermione explained. "So, you're a muggle but Harry's a wizard? How'd that happen?"

"Aunt Lily was like you, muggleborn. When she and Uncle James died in the war, Harry came to live with us," Dudley answered.

The Grangers blinked. "War?" the mother asked faintly.

"Wizards are people too, and can do just as many great, beautiful, and terrible things as muggles," spoke up a white-haired man with round, glassy eyes in the corner. Harry could sense that this man was deeply steeped in wand magic. "Harry Potter. I wondered when I'd see you in my shop." Ollivander walked closer to Harry, who met his gaze unflinchingly. Ollivander gave a small speech about his parents' wands, before setting a finger on the faint imprint of Harry's scar. "And I'm ashamed to say I sold the wand that did this. 13 inches. Yew. Phoenix feather core. A powerful wand…"

"For a powerful man. It's a shame he missed it so," Harry said solemnly, aware Tom was right on his shoulder.

Olliveander's eyes brightened. "Yes, indeed. Now, for you, Mr. Potter. Which is your wand arm?"

"Right," Harry answered.

A tape measure began to take a series of measurements by itself of Harry's hwle body. While Ollivander went digging through his stacks of wands. The Grangers and the Dursleys stood to the side, watching. Ollivander returned with a wand and delicately handed it to Harry. "Try this."

The moment his fingers closed around it, Harry felt the wand try to forge a connection with his magical core. THe problem was, the 'frequency' of the wand was so out of tune with the 'frequency' of his core, there was a strong magical disagreement. The wand shot out of Harry's hand and set a shelf on fire where the tip hit.

"Apparently not," Ollivander said lightly after extinguishing the flames. He returned shortly with another wand. Harry grabbed this one hesitantly. This wand was closer, but still not a match. It shot out a purple bubble that refused to break, despite Ollivander poking it with his wand.

"No, no, definitely not! No matter…" the wandmaker trailed off. A dozen wands later, Harry was starting to lose hope of ever finding a wand that was fully compatible with him. Ollivander wasn't discouraged, if anything he seemed giddy. "Tricky customer, eh. Well, we'll get it right in the end. I wonder… yes, well, why not…" Ollivander returned with yet another wand. Harry gingerly took it in his hand… and felt at home.

It was like learning to paint colorblind and suddenly seeing the rainbow. Or like a lost limb reattaching after a years'-long absence. Harry's magic, so intuned and twisted with his body that it might as well be its own organ system, had found a focus. No more would he have to tame the wild currents of magic with his mind alone. Harry grinned as a white phoenix made of a silvery vapor appeared out the end of Harry's wand, singing beautifully before coming to rest on his shoulder.

Ollivander blinked. "A corporeal Patronus. That's a first. And how curious that this wand would choose you. 11 inches. Holly. Phoenix tail feather. A good wand, a versatile wand…"

"Why is it curious?" Petunia asked worriedly. She found Ollivander as discomforting as when she was a little girl.

"I remember every want I ever sold, Mrs. Dursley. The phoenix whose tail feather resides in Harry's wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious that Harry should be destined for this wand when its brother, why, its brother gave him that scar!"

Harry heard Tom mutter "Prophecy hijinks yet again."

Harry paid 7 Galleons for his wand and led his family out of the shop.

Deciding to team up with the Grangers as a show of solidarity, the Dursley family continued with their browsing of Diagon Alley. They got a little of everything at the apothecary, Harry wanting to experiment with potions. They got him and Hermione outfitted with school robes at Madam Malkin's. As an early birthday present, Vernon allowed Harry to purchase an owl with the express command that he keep her quiet and clean and out of sight of the neighbors. The three children had the most fun at Flourish & Blott's, the bookstore. Dudley went for the fiction section, curious what wizards grew up believing. Hermion got the school texts and at least one reference book for each.

Harry browsed deeper in the store, looking for obscure or odd books as well as heavy theory pieces. The sum total was enough to make Vernon's eyes water, but Harry covered it all with his card. Hermione objected, to which Harry countered "What's the point of being rich if you can't spoil friends and family?" She'd gotten very quiet and hadn't protested again.

They had a hearty lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, keeping their opinions of the strangeness of their surroundings to themselves. The two families exchanged information and promised to meet up at least once more over the summer.

Vernon carried Harry's trunk into his room before knocking on the top. "Harry? You okay in there?"

"Yes, Uncle. Just redecorating!" There was a puff of smoke that came out the edges of the case. "And ventilating!" Harry added.

Far too used to his nephew's strange antics, Vernon retreated to the living room for a bit of brandy to settle his nerves.

As promised, Harry showed Dudley the memory of the cazart right and presented him with a toy wand. It could Summon, Banish, Levitate, Change colors, Shrink, Engorge, and had an emergency 'escape' function to return Dudley home if he were ever in trouble. Dudley had tons of fun with it over the summer, relishing in having just a little magic at his command.

The month of August passed quickly, starting with the aftermath of Harry's 11th birthday. Harry willingly admitted that the fireworks had been a step too far. The police were called. Luckily everything was settled (with the help of a little magic) without consequence. Then Harry had vanished into a blur of playing with Dudley or Hermione, talking with Tom, studying his books, or making preparations for when he left.

In the blink of an eye, it was September 1st and Harry was having his goodbye breakfast.

"I just can't believe it! Today Harry, tomorrow Dudley! My babies are growing up!" Petunia said tearfully, mood swings having firmly taken hold of her.

Harry stood from his place to give her a hug. "I'll write every week, I promise. Hedwig can use the exercise."

"Same here, but I'll use the postman," Dudley said, a bit fed up with his mother's histrionics. They were just going off to boarding school, what was the big deal?

Vernon insisted on driving them all to King's Cross as opposed to Harry just poofing to the platform. Hedwig's cage drew a few eyes, but everyone was in such a rush, no one stopped to comment. Harry walked down the platform between rails 9 and 20 and stopped when he saw a spatial anomaly tied to an illusory wall. "This is it. We just walk through, the wall's fake."

Vernon gulped but took Petunia and Dudley in hand and nodded to Harry. "All together now, Dursleys." With forced confidence, the muggles followed their wizard relative up to and through the wall onto Platform 9 ¾.

"Oh, cor!" Dudley exclaimed when he saw the Hogwarts Express, a shockingly scarlet steam engine with seven cars and seven windows on each side.

Harry turned and gave Petunia and Dudley final hugs and Vernon a firm handshake. "See you over the winter hols. I can't wait to meet my new cousin!"

Petunia nodded, getting teary-eyed as she cradled her bump. "We'll miss you, Harry."

"I don't care how many friends you make, I'm still your favorite cousin," Dudley insisted.

"Don't go getting into trouble, young man. And if you do, don't get caught," Vernon said with a wink.

Nodding and waving goodbye to his reformed family, Harry turned and carried his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the train. It being only 10:30, there were plenty of empty compartments. Harry found one, set his trunk and Hedwig in the rafters, and settled down for a train ride which, according to _Hogwarts, a History_, would last 8 hours with only a candy trolley to feed them. Harry wondered if it were smart to have a bunch of magical children and teenagers hopped up on sugar in an enclosed space like the Express, but what did he know?

Harry watched other families say goodbye to their children. Hermione found him at about 10:45 and gave him a big hug. Apparently, Harry an dDudley were the first honest friends she'd had in her life. "Oh, Harry, can you believe it? We're going off to Hogwarts! We're going to magic school!"

"It's a head rush, I'll admit," Harry said, letting go of his bushy-haired friend. "You're probably going for Ravenclaw, right?"

"I'm actually hoping for Gryffindor! It's the house that Albus Dumbledore was in after all and he's like the second coming of Merlin according to the books I read!"

"What about Slytherin? That's the House the actual Merlin was in," Harry pointed out. He was friends with the heir of Slytherin, of course he wouldn't have any prejudice against the house.

Hermione shrugged. "Green clashes with my hair. Besides, I like to think I'm more intelligent than cunning or sly."

"Which is exactly why Ravenclaw is perfect for you! Imagine, living with all other bookworms, competing for homework, fighting over reference texts," Harry painted a word picture.

Hermione grinned before frowning. "But what if you don't get into Ravenclaw?"

"No reason I won't, I'm pretty smart. And even if I don't, it's not like we'll stop being friends! We just won't sleep in the same House. According to Rule 17 of the Hogwarts Charter, students only have to sit at their House Table during Feasts. We can trade off meals with each other and any other friends we make in different Houses."

Hermione's eyes lit up at the prospect of more friends. She was about to speak up when Harry noticed a boy with a visibly depressed/anxious/terrified aura walking past dragging his trunk. Harry stood up and opened the compartment door, figuring he'd try to help out. "Excuse me? WE have room in here if you're looking for a seat."

The boy jumped and let go of a toad he was carrying in his other hand. Harry caught it as it made a prodigious leap into his own hands. *I must explore and claim this new territory in the name of my ancestors!* declared the amphibian.

"Quite the free spirit you've got here. What's his name?" Harry asked kindly.

"T-trevor," the boy stuttered.

*Trevor, you can explore when your owner is asleep. He'd be very worried for you if you went off during the daytime,* Harry reasoned with the toad.

*Oh, very well. The night is the more exciting time to trek anyway,* Trevor agreed.

Harry handed back the toad and took the end of the boy's trunk, dragging him into their compartment. "We're just in here. I'm Harry, and this is Hermione. What's your name?"

"Neville. Neville Longbottom," the chubby blond answered, eyeing them like they were predators.

Harry helped lift the uncharmed trunk into the compartment above the seats, and then they sat down. "Hermione and I were just discussing which House we'd be in. Do you have any ideas?"

Neville gulped and clung to Trevor. "W-well, my parents were in Gryffindor so I hope to go there. But my Gran says I'll be lucky to get into Hufflepuff, I'm such a coward."

Harry furrowed his brow. "That's not very nice of her to say. Sometimes the bravest are those with the most fear. Courage and bravery doesn't mean you're fearless, it means you act despite your fear And in any case, Hufflepuff is just as good as Gryffindor. Your gran sounds prejudiced."

"She's a bit… set in her ways," Neville said in his small voice.

"Harry talked me out of Gryffindor and into Ravenclaw! I mean, it's not really up to us, of course, but if you get into Hufflepuff we'd each have friends in at least one other House. Then we just need a Gryffindor and a Slytherin and our little group would have the full set!" Hermione gushed excitedly.

Neville blinked. "We're friends?" he asked in disbelief.

"We can spit shake to make it official if you want," Harry joked.

Neville shook his head. "No, no, it's just… I've never had friends before."

Harry patted his shoulder as Hermione gave him an understanding smile. "Welcome to the club, Neville. You're stuck with us at least until graduation."

Neville got a hesitant grin. They talked more about Hogwarts, switching from Houses to subjects. Neville proved to know tons of Herbology trivia, even more than Hermione which was quite a feat. Neville confessed the greenhouses were his favorite part of his gran's estate. Well, technically it was his, but he wasn't old enough to claim it. Harry and Hermione tactfully avoided the subject of Neville's parents, assuming they died in the Voldemort war. The train began to move, and they paused to look out the window as King's Cross station vanished and the London countryside began to appear.

"I hope you guys packed lunch, we don't get dinner until around 8," Harry advised.

Neville and Hermione both nodded that they'd prepared. They started taking for about five minutes when there was a knock on the door. Curious, Harry opened it to find a gangly redhead with a nose too big for his face with a smudge of dirt on it. Harry wordlessly vanished it for the boy. "May we help you?" Harry asked.

"My dumb brothers kicked me out of their compartment. Do you mind?" the redhead asked with a shy grin.

"Not at all, the more the merrier," Harry said. He took the clearly secondhand trunk from the boy and stacked it in the luggage compartment. Hermione and Neville gave waves to the new boy as he sat down next to Hermione. "I'm Harry, and these are Neville and Hermione."

"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," Ron said. "So have you heard that Harry Potter is on the train?"

"You don't say?" Harry asked feigning ignorance. He'd deliberately grown out his bangs to cover his scar.

"Imagine, going to classes with the Boy-Who-Lived! That's bloody brilliant, don't you think?" Ron gushed.

"He's in at least three different books that I've read. He seems like a big deal," Hermione commented, sharing a wink with Harry. He'd revealed his celebrity status in the wizarding world to her in confidence, and she'd promised to keep his secret.

Ron eyed Hermione. "Muggleborn?" he asked, not rudely.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked back.

"Harry Potter is a legend, the only one who survived You-Know-Who. There's not a child in our world that didn't grow up hearing about him," Neville explained.

"But people don't actually think he BEAT Voldemort, do they? I mean, he was a 1-year-old," Harry pointed out.

Ron and Neville gasped. "You… You said his name!" Ron gaped.

Harry shrugged, ignoring Tom chuckling at the fear his fake name inspired. "I wasn't raised to flinch at it like you two. To me, it's just a name, like Hitler or Stalin. It's not like saying it will make him appear behind you, he's not Beetlejuice."

"I think that all flew over their heads, Harry," Hermione stated as she saw the blank looks on the boys' faces. "Seems you're as ignorant of our world as we are of your s. I mean, have you even heard of the moon landing?"

"Moon landing? What nonsense is that?" Ron demanded.

Harry summed up the Space Race of the 1960s, culminating in American astronauts setting foot on the moon and returning safely to the Earth. Ron and Neville gaped like muggle kids just introduced to magic. "You're making this up!" Ron exclaimed in disbelief.

Harry shrugged. "I can show you a book with photos they took up there if you need extra convincing. Science can be as powerful as magic, my friends. It just takes longer to work."

"You two don't even know about the atomic bomb and the Cold War, do you?" Hermione asked.

Harry and Hermione kept Neville and Ron fascinated with muggle history and technology until the candy lady arrived. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" asked the kind old witch.

Harry reached into his moleskin pouch and withdrew five Galleons. "We'll take the lot, please," he requested with a smile. "Ron's eyes bulged at seeing the gold and even Neville was impressed at the amount Harry was sacrificing for sweets.

They soon had a selection of a great majoring of Honeyduke's stock lined up on the floor for dessert. They all took out their lunches, Harry climbing up to get him from inside his trunk next to Hedwig's cage. She was sleeping during the day. Neville and Ron were amazed at Hermione's Lunchables while Harry merely enjoyed one of his Aunt's chicken caesar sandwiches. She always made the dressing just right.

"You've honestly never seen plastic?" Hermione wondered as she let Neville and Ron play with the wrap and case. "It's just refined oil, no big deal."

"What you have to understand, Hermione, is that Wizarding Europe took a more isolationist stance after World War II, and they weren't exactly up to date even then. With the exception of, well, magic, Wizarding Britain is still frozen in the Victorian Era," Harry explained. "Now, do they MEAN 'every' flavor?" Harry asked, opening a pack of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans.

"Oh, yes. There's chocolate and peppermint and there's also spinach, liver, and tripe. My brother George sweared he got a booger flavored one once," Ron said around a mouthful of Chocolate Frog. "Agrippa again! Here, any of you collect cards?"

"No time like the present," Harry accepted the apparently common card. He eyed the moving portrait with fascination. "So, are the inks potion-based or do they cast a spell on the finished picture?"

"I'm pretty sure it's the first one," Nevile said, chewing some Drooble's Best-Blowing Gum. He paused and blew a bubble the size of his head before collapsing it and chewing again.

The door was forced open, making them pause in their candy hijinks. A blond, snobbish looking boy already in his Hogwarts robes was flanked by two hulking young preadolescents who appeared to have troll blood. Tom whispered in Parseltongue *Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, the new generation it appears.*

"Someone said Harry Potter was in this compartment," the Malfoy heir said imperiously. He eyed their feast and, without asking permission, took a Chocolate Frog. "Is that true?"

Harry rose a brow. He pulled back his hair to reveal his scar, shocking Ron and Neville. "Yes, I'm here. And considering you just stole from me and my friends, I'm disinclined to listen to whatever it is you want to say to me."

Malfoy dropped the Chocolate Frog abruptly. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Draco Malfoy. These are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. We came to invite you to our compartment."

Aware he was burning bridges but unable to help himself, Harry said flatly "Which I'm sure is filled with fellow children of 'alleged' Death Eaters like yourselves. Considering your parents want me dead or to use my fame as a tool, I really don't feel comfortable joining you. To say nothing of the fact you're all certainly blood purists and my best friends is muggleborn. I really don't see our friendship working out, Draco, but thanks for taking the time to find me."

Malfoy's pinched face closed off. "You'll soon learn that certain wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand.

Harry gave a cold grin and pushed the offered hand back. "'Better' and 'wrong' are relative terms, Draco. There are irreconcilable differences between our world views, and I'm not convinced either of us could convince the other. You see Voldemort as a hero. I see him as the madman who murdered my parents. Thanks, but no thanks."

Draco flinched at the name and frowned. He closed the door and he and his cronies walked away.

"What was that?" Hermione demanded.

"That was the son of Voldemort's right hand trying to drag mem over to the Dark," Harry answered, slumping down. "Can I have a Licorice Wand?"

Neville handed it over, eyes wide. "You… you're Harry Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm the same kid who caught Trevor and invited you in, Neville. I'm famous because a Dark Lord tried to kill me as a baby after making me an orphan and mysteriously vanished afterward. I'm a scapegoat, not a hero."

Ron absently pulled out a rat and fed him a bean. "Okay. You're just Harry. My family still won't believe I'm friends with you."

"How big is your family? You mentioned at least two brothers," Hermione asked.

Conversations shifted to their family lives, and Harry kept one ear on the conversation and one eye on Ron's pet rat. Well, this was a fortuitous circumstance. Tom and he shared a predatory look. Peter Pettigrew's comfy life was over.

As it got dark, they took turns changing into their robes. Their ties and cloak edges were uncolored, and would magically change to reflect their House when Sorted. The anticipation built and built, until they arrived at Hogsmeade Station. They left their luggage on the train and stepped out onto the platform. A gigantic man with a bushy black beard wearing a brown coat and carrying a lantern called out "Firs' Years, come with me! Come on now, Firs' Years, don't be shy!"

They followed the man, who introduced himself as Hagrid, the groundskeeper, down to the lake. They filed into a series of canoes, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron squeezing into one. Harry decided not to comment on the fact the canoes were mall gripped by the tentacles of a giant squid, assuming the creature was trained. Hagrid took up a whole canoe by himself and, lantern held high, made the canoes start moving. They pulled out into the blackness of the lake, coming around a bend to get their first view of Hogwarts Castle.

Harry's jaw dropped. The amount of magic soaked into each stone was staggering. He could never recapture the beauty of seeing all that magic in one place. It was just this side of Fairy World. He blinked away tears, knowing that he'd found his HOME. The Dursleys were his family, but this was where he was meant to be.

The children all soaked up the sight as they moved across the lake, coming under a promontory into a cave. They all stepped out onto the torch-lit dock and made it up a series of stairs.

Their legs beginning to achee, Hagrid rapped on a big door. It opened to reveal a stern-faced middle-aged witch in green robes and hat. "The Firs' Years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid intoned.

"Follow me," McGonagall told the children, leading them through a Great Hall and into a small antechamber. "You'll wait here while we prepare for you. Now, in a few minutes, you will be Sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has produced many remarkable wizards and witches, and I expect each of you to be a credit to the House you are assigned. Now, while you're here, your House will be something like your family. You will attend classes with your House, eat meals with your house, and sleep in your House dormitory. Your triumphs will earn you House points; any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor." Speech done, McGonagall left them to stew in nervousness.

Harry looked to all his friends and held out his hand. "No matter where we get Sorted, we'll still be friends. Agreed?"

Hermione, Neville, and Ron hesitated a bit before putting their hands on top of Harry's. "Agreed," they said in turn.

Harry nodded and grinned. "Relax. The Sorting is harmless. They just make us put on a hat that reads our thoughts to decide which House we best fit in."

Ron blinked. "Really? Fred was going on about having to wrestle a troll."

"Where'd you find that out, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"There's a secret chapter in _Hogwarts, a History_ about the Sorting Hat, but it's charmed so no one under the age of 12 can read it. I found and cracked the spell over the summer and read all about it. It once belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself and all four Founders used their magic to bring it to life!" Harry explained.

Neville blinked. "How'd you do that?"

Harry shrugged. "I've always been good with magic. I started being able to use it consciously about a year ago. I've done a lot of experimenting."

Ron gaped. "You mean, you did wandless magic, not accidental magic? Bloody hell, only really powerful wizards are supposed to be able to do that!"

Harry blushed. "Well, I wouldn't know about that. I'm sure anyone could do it once they got the trick."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I looked up the charm you did when you got your wand, the Patronus. That's a NEWT-level spell we aren't supposed to even attempt until seventh year. And you did it just by touching your wand. You're powerful, Harry, get used to it."

Ron and Neville gaped at this news, along with a few eavesdroppers. Before Harry could deflect from his supposed 'power', the room came alive with ghosts. They appeared from the walls, ceiling, even the floor, floating transparent and white. They were dressed in centuries' old fashions, and were apparently having a spirited debate that Harry was half-convinced was scripted. "And I say we should finally get rid of the menace!" one ghost exclaimed.

"Surely he deserves a second chance?" a bald man in a friar's frock said with a smile.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves and then some? He brings a bad reputation on every spirit in the castle!" the first ghost, dressed like a chivalric knight, protested. He paused to look down. "Oh, excuse me!"

"Living! Hope you're in Hufflepuff, that's my old House," the Friar said with his wide grin.

Professor McGonagall opened the door and the ghosts vanished off into the bowels of the school. "We're ready for you. Follow me."

The lined up single-file and trailed after McGonagall as she led them into the Dining Hall, a massive room with five long oaken tables, four lined up parallel and perpendicular to the fifth on a slight rise. Massive vaulted windows occupied the walls, candles floated in the air, and the ceiling was transparent, charmed to look like the sky outside. The First Years all walked up and formed a little huddle at the foot of the steps up to the Professors' Table, aware the whole school was watching them. A battered old hat was resting on a stool, and as they Hall quieted down, a rip appeared near the brim and it began to sing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_"

The Hogwarts students and staff all cheered and clapped their hands. The Hat bowed to each table in turn before going still again.

Professor McGonagall pulled out a long roll of parchment. "Abbott, Hannah!" she called. A freckled girl walked forward and sat on the stool, McGonagall placing the Sorting Hat upon her head. The hat seemed to contemplate for a moment before declaring "HUFFLEPUFF!" in full voice. Hannah grinned, even as her tie and cloak changed color to the yellow and black of Hufflepuff, and went to the table cheering for her while the others politely clapped.

The huddle of four friends waited anxiously for Hermione to go first. When her name was called, she walked up and sat under the Hat. "RAVENCLAW!" the Hat shouted, and Harry, Ron, and Neville cheered extra hard for their female friend as her tie turned blue and bronze. She settled into her table, and soon enough McGonagall called out "Longbottom, Neville!" The pudgy blond took a deep breath and strode with as much confidence as he could up to the stool. The Hat thought it over for a full minute before declaring "HUFFLEPUFF!" Neville let out a sigh and went to his table, a genuine smile on his face. The Hat must have told him something nice.

Harry grinned at Ron when McGonagall reached the 'P's and when she called "Potter, Harry!" the green-eyed boy strolled up and hopped on the stool. The last thing he saw was the whole Hall looking at him before the brim of the Hat fell over his eyes.

"Ah, a fairy godchild. Quite rare to have graduated from your godparent's care rather than exposing them. You clearly can keep a secret," a small voice whispered to Harry, whom for the occasion had let down his Mind shields.

"I was hardly going to ruin the best thing to ever fall into my lap," Harry whispered back mentally. "Tell me, what do you do all year when you're not Sorting? Does the Headmaster just plop you on a shelf and leave you to think up next year's song? Does he never arrange outings?"

"Let's keep the focus on you, young Potter. A keen intellect, I see. Not afraid of hard work either. There's a thirst for magic, for the power and majesty of it all. And you're utterly fearless when exploring those limits. Difficult, very difficult. Where to put you?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't care if I go where I'll be the best fit. Just put me where I'll do the most good for others."

"So selfless, as well. Now that I think about it… given your work with the misguided heir… yes, it makes a certain sense. You'll be the face of the new SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

**Who saw that one coming? Pretty sure a few did. Anyway, please fave, follow, or review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we are, and here you go.**

* * *

There was dead silence in the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat numbly from his head. Harry gave her a polite nod and then walked over to the far right side of the room, feeling the magic of his clothes changing color to green and silver. Harry steered clear of Malfoy and his contingent, sitting next to a girl he was pretty sure was named Daphne Greengrass. Ron, surprisingly, started clapping and the Hall went into half-hearted, belated applause.

"I do believe you just shattered the expectations of everyone in the room," Daphne commented to Harry under her breath as the Sorting got back underway.

"I live to be unpredictable," Harry said with a half-grin and held out his hand. "Harry Potter. I intend to make Slytherin a Grey House instead of a Dark House. Can I count on your alliance?"

Daphne's eyes lit up and she got a calculating grin too old for her face as she shook his hand. "Daphne Greengrass. I'll be delighted to watch you try, and if your victory should seem inevitable, to provide my assistance at the end of your campaign."

Harry shrugged. "Better than nothing, I suppose." Turning his attention back to the Sorting, Harry ignored the staring from all five tables, especially the incredulous gaze of Professor Quirell. Harry would have to do something about the lingering shade of Voldemort hiding under his purple turban. But tonight was about Sorting and Feasting. He wondered what game Dumbledore was playing in allowing the soul of a serial killer anarchist into the school, or if he was getting so old and senile that he simply didn't notice.

When Ron was called next to last, the Hat barely touched his head before saying "GRYFFINDOR," to the delight of his three brothers at the table on the other side of the room from Harry. Harry and the other two who'd shared a compartment with the boy cheered along with Gryffindor, ignoring the looks from the rest of their tables. Finally, Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin and, to Harry's surprise, took the seat directly next to Harry. The olive-skinned boy gave an enigmatic grin and nodded at Harry before turning to face the Head Table.

Albus Dumbledore, wielder of the Elder Wand as Harry saw by the magic laced in his wand holster, stood and gave a grandfatherly smile to everyone in the room, though his eyes seemed to twinkle a little less when they went over the Slytherins. "I have a few words to say before the Feast. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you," he said as he sat back down, the golden dishes on each table filling with food magically.

"My father can never work out whether he's just acting crazy or if he really has gone round the bend, he's just as cunning as a fox," Daphne commented to Harry as she began to load her plate.

"For all we know it's a triple bluff, and he's really crazy and acts crazy to convince some people he's not crazy. In any case, you can't deny his power," Harry said, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. He'd have to go investigating where the kitchens were and ask for some recipe cards, because whoever cooked for Hogwarts was even better than Harry and his Aunt Petunia.

"But of course. He is the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared," Blaise spoke up, in a French-accented voice.

Harry shrugged. "True, but I think he had some kind of bone to pick with me or my family. I mean, why specifically target a toddler? Maybe there was some prophecy or something that said I'd be the one to vanquish him," he said casually, dropping the truth and seeing if anyone would pick it up.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Divination is for morons. No way the Dark Lord believed in a dumb prophecy."

Harry could practically feel Tom grinding his teeth on his shoulder.

"To be fair, he wasn't the sanest at the end, from what I hear. Too many dark rituals to try and boost his power and extend his lifespan. He didn't even look human when he came for me that night, I hear," Harry commented.

Blaise paused after a bite of chicken. "You seem remarkably calm discussing 'that' night, Mr. Potter."

"Call me Harry, Blaise. And I've made my peace with it. It happened, and nothing I do can change that. Rather than cry and moan and beat my fists on the ground about it, I might as well just move on, don't you think?" Harry asked his seat companion.

Blaise nodded. "I've had step-fathers with less maturity than you, Harry. You're a remarkable young man."

Harry blinked his eyes and blushed on cue. "Are you coming on to me, Blaise? Because I think we're a little young to date or even discuss marriage contracts."

Daphne burst into laughter at Blaise's horrified look. "Oh, I like you, Potter. If you survive till next year, I'll have my sister join this little clique we're forming."

The rest of dinner passed in pleasant, if somewhat political for 11-year-olds, conversation. Dessert appeared right after dinner and Harry knew he'd have trouble sleeping with all the sugar he gleefully consumed. The others seemed to be going into food comas from the Feast, as Dumbledore stood up yet again when every dish was clean.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry raised a brow. "Well, that's not ominous, or tempting. Half the students will do it just to see what the big secret is," he muttered.

"Dumbledore loves his schemes," Tom muttered back to Harry.

After a truly terrible rendition of the school song, Dumbledore dismissed them all to their dormitories. Harry, Daphne, and Blaise all stood and made to follow the prefect who gathered them, pointedly keeping a distance from the Malfoy group. Harry kept half an eye on his other three friends, noting that Ron and Hermione were being led to the upper levels while Neville was going down with the Hufflepuffs into the lower levels alongside the Slytherins. The Badgers and Snakes soon split, and Harry memorized the path through the cold, dank dungeons to a stretch of plain wall to the naked eye, but to Harry's was loaded with magic. Well, more so than every other wall.

"The password this month is 'Dragonpox,', please see the notice board at the start of each month for the new password," the prefect said, even as the wall vanished behind him to reveal the Slytherin Common Room. It was already packed with upperclassmen that had taken shortcuts ahead of them. The First Years followed the prefect into the room, where he indicated which door was for boys and which for girls. And then a relatively young wizard with a hooked nose that appeared to have been broken multiple times and stringy hair in all black robes appeared as if by magic from the corner.

"I am Professor Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. I am not to be crossed," he said in a whispery voice that nevertheless was heard by all. "As Slytherins, you are to present a united front to the school. Any and all conflicts are to be handled internally. We cannot afford to show weakness to the other Houses. Given our… reputation, you will find yourselves facing discrimination and unfair treatment. This is a guarantee. You must always remember to be patient and strike back invisibly and without a trace. The Slytherin who gets caught is no true Slytherin. Now, all of you get to bed. Classes start in the morning." With that, Snape swooped out of the Common Room like a vampire.

Harry cricked his neck, and turned to face the room. "You might want to take a few steps away from me," he told Daphne and Blaise. The two blinked, but when they saw a trio of hulking fifth- and sixth-years making their way over to Harry, they wisely moved aside.

"You got a lot of nerve, Potter," the lead man snarled.

Harry affected a yawn. "It's late. I'm tired. I don't have the energy to pretend to give a fuck what you say. Either cast on me and start the duel, or stand aside so I can make it to my dorm. Your choice."

The big brute was taken aback by the utter confidence in Harry's stance, having expected a cowering First Year. But he took out his wand and opened his mouth. "Crucio!" he snarled, before finding himself seizing and jerking on the floor.

Harry watched dispassionately as the man suffered from his own curse. He cancelled the reflecting spell and turned to face the man's flunkies. "Get him to the Infirmary, tell Madam Pomfrey he was experimenting with an Unforgivable. If I haven't heard that he was expelled by morning, I'll take it out on you two. Clear?"

The two nodded frantically and grabbed their leader, who appeared to have soiled himself. They dragged him out the Common Room and into the tunnels of the dungeons. The Common Room was dead silent. Harry turned to all of them. "Yes, you just saw me reflect the Cruciatus Curse wandlessly. No, that is not the extent of my powers. There is a reason Voldemort came to kill me that night: I am destined to be his equal in every way. But where he was a force for anarchy and antiquated traditions, I stand for harmony and the future. Mess with me, Greengrass, Zabini, Longbottom, Granger, or the Weasleys, and feel my wrath." With that, Harry strolled through the crowd, which parted in front of him.

He got to his dorm, which he noted was a hallway with single rooms and a bathroom at the end, and selected the one closest to the shower. The plaque on the door magically was engraved with his name, and Harry found his luggage and Hedwig's empty cage appearing with a pop of unfamiliar creature magic. "Guess Hogwarts has House Elves," Harry mused, putting the pieces together.

"The largest population in any British dwelling. And may I say I was quite impressed with your performance out there," Tom said appreciatively. "You didn't even blink when he went for the Torture Curse."

"You reap what you sow," Harry said flatly. "I've had enough of getting beaten and ignored for a lifetime. From now on, I'm winning all the fights and I'm being listened to by every ear. If that makes me arrogant, so be it. The Hat put me in Slytherin to clean house, and that's exactly what I intend to do. I'll beat the programming out of the young ones and cow the older ones with my power. Slytherin won't be known as the house that made you when I'm done, it'll be the house that made Harry Potter."

With that vow, Harry changed into a nightshirt, set his alarm, and climbed into the toasty bed. He was asleep within seconds, while Tom stayed up contemplating his young companion.

Harry woke with the dawn, rolling out of bed and putting on workout clothes. He doubted Hogwarts had its own Gym, but it was still fairly warm outside for Scotland. Harry jogged back through the dungeons and up to the main hallway, going for the main doors and gently nudging them open. He jogged down to the lake from the courtyard of the castle, and proceeded to run three laps around the fair-sized lake. That done, he did his usual calisthenics in the grass before jogging back to the castle. He returned silently to Slytherin Common Room, disturbing no one but a few portraits along the way, and made it to the shower by 7 am. He was dressed and ready to take on the world by 7:30, and Harry knocked on Blaise's door to wake him up.

"Blaise! Breakfast started half an hour ago. Classes start at nine. Get dressed," Harry said to the sleepy-eyed Frenchman that answered the door. Blaise nodded vaguely and then closed the door. Harry decided to wait in the Common Room, where he found Daphne already up and waiting. They chatted amicably until Blaise appeared, clearly still half-asleep. Harry led his two Slytherin friends through the dungeons with confidence and up to the Great Hall. Harry eyed the rest of the Hall while he, Daphne, and Blaise loaded up on eggs and toast and sausage. His other three friends were nowhere in sight.

"Can we discuss what happened last night?" Blaise asked, much more awake after two cups of coffee.

Harry shrugged. "A guy wanted to spell me to a pulp for defeating Voldemort or some other stupid reason like that. I showed him why I'm not to be messed with. Where lies the confusion?"

"Untrained 11-year-olds can't do wandless magic, let alone reflect an Unforgivable Curse," Daphne hissed, eyeing the Ravenclaws nearest them.

"True. But I'm not untrained," Harry said, taking a bite of his breakfast.

"I thought you grew up with muggles," Blaise said, confused.

"I did, my Aunt, Uncle, and cousin. But it wasn't just them in the house with me. There's been someone with me ever since he tried to kill me that Halloween night," Harry said, going into his prepared lie. He couldn't talk about Gadzooks, so he'd use Tom as a scapegoat.

Daphne gaped. "No…"

Harry indicated his scar. "This is much more than just a piece of damaged tissue. It's where a part of his soul fractured off and implanted itself against mine. He's been with me all my life, like a voice in my ear. He started training me about a year ago. I was a good student, and you saw the results last night," Harry explained.

Blaise gaped. "The Dark Lord lives on inside your head?"

"You can understand why I don't go announcing it to everyone, but we're friends. Plus I owed you an explanation after last night, especially if you intend to stay by my side."

Daphne seemed to be chewing this piece of information. "So… the Dark Lord is your imaginary friend. And he… taught you magic? Why would he do that? Aren't you his greatest enemy or something?"

Harry shrugged. "Like I said, I'm destined to become his equal. When he was alive and insane, he saw me as a threat and went after me. We all know how that turned out. Now that he's renting space in my brain, he figures I'm meant to replace him and do what he originally set out to do, before the dark rituals started twisting his mind."

"And what was that?" Blaise asked, on the edge of his seat.

"Save Wizarding Britain from its own stagnation. Wizarding Europe would be better but let's just focus on the homeland for now," Harry said lightly before sipping his pumpkin juice. It was an acquired taste, but the only juice available.

"And how do you plan to do that?" Daphne asked with a raised brow.

"I don't have all the particulars worked out, but step one is replacing Dumbledore as Head of the Wizengamot. Possibly as Headmaster of Hogwarts, too. Control the education, you control the future of the country, after all," Harry reasoned. "Or just resurrect Tom and let him do all the hard work."

"Tom?" Blaise questioned.

"His real name. He hates it, but I refuse to call him Voldemort. Voldemort is the guy who killed my parents. Tom is who he was before he went tumbling into madness."

Daphne blinked. "Such a common… muggle name."

"Well, of course. He was named after his father, Tom Riddle Sr," Harry said nonchalantly.

Blaise's jaw dropped. "The Dark Lord was a halfblood?"

"And all his hatred of muggles can be traced back to his unresolved daddy issues because his father abandoned his mother after she stopped feeding him love potion. Never mind that the guy had essentially been magically raped for years, oh no, all that mattered was Tom grew up in an orphanage during World War II because Mommy was too weak to stay alive and Daddy wanted nothing to do with him. You can almost feel sorry for the guy when you hear the whole story, until you remember all that he did because of it," Harry spelled out.

Daphne blinked. "Wait… you say he lives in your head? So… he heard my comment last night? About Divination being for morons?"

"Don't worry, he can't hurt you. But that did annoy him, yes," Harry told her honestly.

While Daphne paled, Harry noted Hermione coming into the room. She waved at him and came to stand beside him, ignoring the incredulous looks of her fellow Ravenclaws. "Hi, Harry. I can't sit with you because Professor Flitwick needs to hand me my schedule, but Ron, Neville and I can surely meet up with you for lunch. Or you and your friends could join us! We'll start a new trend, I don't think anyone's heard of Rule 17."

Harry nodded and stood to give her a brief hug. "Enjoy your first day of classes, Hermione. Knock 'em dead!" Harry sat down and blinked at the incredulous glances from Daphne and Blaise. "What?"

"You're planning on eating lunch at another House Table or inviting other Houses to our Table?" Blaise demanded.

"What's wrong with that? It's perfectly within the rules," Harry protested.

"It… it just isn't done!" Daphne said like it was obvious as the sun in the sky.

Harry gave them both hard looks. "What's done isn't always what should be done, and what isn't done is sometimes what should be done. This is exactly what I meant by stagnation. You're so set in your ways you can't even fathom a small change, whereas the muggles are changing so fast you almost can't keep up with it! Adapt or die, that's the rule of evolution. I'll drag the wizarding world kicking and screaming into the 21st century, or die trying." Harry paused. "Or again, just resurrect Tom and let him do all the hard work."

"You speak of resurrection as if it were simple," Blaise said in disbelief of Harry.

"It is, with the right ritual. Tom did a LOT of research into death magic before he came after me, he was obsessed with becoming immortal. Obviously, he got pretty close," Harry replied.

Snape came over them, making them all shut up. "Here are your schedules. Don't be late, we can ill afford to lose points." With that, he swept down the table. Harry glanced over his schedule, noting that he had a class with the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws at one point or another, so he was guaranteed to have class with at least one friend from another House each day, not counting meals.

"Shame we don't have Potions until Friday. That's my favorite subject," Harry said, not noticing Snape pause and turn to look behind at them before jerking his head away and moving on.

"Herbology first thing Tuesday! We won't get to wash our hands until after dinner," Blaise whined, looking at his clearly manicured nails.

"Flying classes on Thursday afternoons with every House, that should be fun," Daphne commented.

"Seems we have History of Magic first thing today. Professor Binns is supposed to be really dull, but most Ministry jobs require an OWL in the subject. I say we use his class period as study hall and self-study History in the evenings," Harry suggested.

They talked about their schedules until 8:30, and then set out on the small adventure of finding the classroom in the first place. Harry had the bright idea of asking a prefect, and her directions proved easy enough to follow. Harry pointed out every trick step or false wall, using his enhanced senses to see where the magic fluctuated. Daphne and Blaise took him at his word and they were the first students to arrive in Binns' classroom. Other Slytherin First Years and Hufflepuffs filtered in, with Harry waving Neville over to sit beside him when he came in.

"How was your first night away from home?" Harry asked.

"Not too bad. I was mostly worried about you, actually. Did the other Slytherins give you a lot of trouble over you being, well, you?" Neville asked back.

Harry grinned confidently. "They tried. It didn't work out too well for them. I can be fairly scary when the occasion calls for it."

Daphne and Blaise snorted into their History books.

Harry introduced his friends to each other and chatted until the bell rang. On cue, a ghost dressed like he was from the 1800s stepped through the chalkboard. And that proved to be the most interesting thing to happen all class period. Professor Cuthbert Binns had the dubious honor of being the most boring man on the staff when he was alive, and he made for the most boring ghost on staff now that he was dead. His voice could send even the most diligent student to sleep. Harry spent the period rereading his other school texts rather than making notes, a practice his other friends soon joined him in.

"We need to get that man exorcised, or at least move the classroom and have a proper Professor. He might not even notice if we're not there," Harry grumbled.

"He works for free, I'm pretty sure the School Governors have shot down trying to replace him to leave move room in the budget," Daphne enlightened Harry.

"I'll make a donation if I have to, we just have to get a 'real' History teacher," Harry insisted. "How anyone gets a passing OWL after five years of 'that', I don't know. Does anyone even take his NEWT class?"

"I hear the sixth- and seventh-years share him in one classroom, and there's plenty of room," Blaise answered.

The next period was Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was its own form of torture comparable to Binns. Quirrell had either affected or was afflicted with a severe stutter. He stumbled over every word that came out of his mouth, and all the while Harry had to deal with an assault on his mind from the original soul shard of Voldemort. He didn't have a prayer of making it through Harry's shields, but it was still annoying.

"One of these days, after that vocally paralyzed man is fired, I'm going to ask Tom how to undo the curse he put on the position," Harry mumbled darkly on the way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"So Tom, I mean, the Dark Lord really cursed the DADA post?" Blaise asked interestedly.

"Yeah, because Dumbledore turned down his application for the job. He would have used it to spread his agenda to the next generation, but still, that was one of the final straws that broke the camel's back and made him go completely bonkers. He loved Hogwarts, it was his first and only real home," Harry elaborated.

Daphne nodded. "So, if we're eating elsewhere, which Table are we sitting at? Please not the Gryffindors, I can't handle that on my first day."

Hermione waved at him, flanked by Neville and Ron from the Ravenclaw Table. "Hermione seems to be playing hostess today," Harry told her, guiding his friends to sit opposite the other three. "Sickle that it takes five minutes before a professor comes to tell us off," Harry proposed as he prepared a plate.

"We're not breaking any rules, why would they come to stop us?" Hermione asked confused.

"I'd hate to take your money," Blaise said lightly as he bit into a sandwich. "This Rule 17, Granger, has not been exercised in living memory. I doubt even the Professors remember it exists. We're getting told off."

Ron shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Here's Professor Flitwick coming now."

The miniature professor, who Harry was convinced had goblin heritage based on his magical make-up, came up to Harry and the group with a frown. "Might I ask why you are all dining with Miss Granger and not at your own Tables?"

Harry grinned winningly. "Rule 17 of the Hogwarts Charter, Professor. We can sit wherever we want except for Feasts. And we wanted to sit together as a group. Is there a problem with that?"

Flitwick seemed to consider this for a moment before getting a boyish grin. "No, I don't think so. In fact, I think it's a rather splendid idea. We've been separated by these invisible walls for too long, I say." With that, Flitwick returned to the Head Table.

Seeing the little Firsties not get in trouble for breaking House lines, other students began to change tables, until all four were a riot of red, green, blue, and yellow. Harry grinned even as he felt Malfoy glare into his back. Hogwarts unity was in progress.

Harry and his friends got through afternoon lessons and then dinner before retreating to the Common Room to do homework. Harry purposefully claimed the cozy seats by the chair for he and his friends, and none of the upperclassmen challenged him on it. Looks like he'd left a strong impression after last night. They were first-day assignments for First Years, so they were done within the hour. Then Harry jumped to his feet with a smile. "I'm going exploring. Either of you care to join me?"

Daphne and Blaise traded a look before sighing and getting up. "Do we really have a choice? We leave you to go alone and you'll wind up hanging by your socks from the Astronomy Tower," Daphne said in a put-upon manner.

"I'm not going to get ambushed again. And if I am, I'll handle it easily. Remember who my mentor was," Harry reassured them. "Don't come if you don't want to."

Blaise shrugged. "Interesting things seem to happen around you, Harry. I'm eager to witness them."

Harry took his two classmates on a winding tour of the dungeons, using the classic maze technique of always following the wall to your left. They found a great many dusty storerooms that bore further investigation for trinkets and magical wonders, and a section of rooms that had clearly been intended to be prison cells. They found Snape's classroom, and not far from there Harry found an enchanted door he was pretty sure led to Snape's private quarters. They returned to their Common Room when the warning bell for first curfew rang, now with a thorough understanding of the dungeons.

"Tomorrow, the basement level. I'm curious to find the kitchens," Harry said eagerly.

Daphne was about to say something when Harry's senses screamed bloody murder. Casting an impenetrable, reflective shield around the three of them, Harry watched as a bunch of upperclassmen sent stunners or other spells at Harry and his friends, only to be hit by or have to dodge their own magic. Harry wordlessly and wandlessly lifted them all up in the Levicorpus Charm, and summoned their wands to his hand, keeping the shield in place in case there was a second wave.

"You know, I'd hoped my first display of talent was enough to impress all of you, but apparently you all needed a second helping," Harry said coldly, looking into the eyes of his five assailants. He played with the wands in his hand, juggling them with magic. "I could snap your wands right now, I hope you realize. And then where would you be? If I were anything like your precious Dark Lord, I would torture and kill you all for the insult of this attack. Fortunately for you, I'm a nice guy." Harry dropped them all on their heads, and tossed their wands to the floor in front of them. "This was Slytherin House's second free pass. There won't be a third. Attack me or mine again, and I start breaking things. Bones, wands, minds, you name it. And then I'll fix it all with a snap and leave none of you able to report me. Consider yourselves warned," Harry told the room, letting some of his magic flow around him to ruffle his clothing and move his hair as if in a wind. His eyes all but glowed Avada Kedavra green. Then Harry dropped the shield and led Daphne and Blaise over to the dorm entrances. He nodded to both before going to his own room and shutting the door.

Harry made a note to visit Hedwig in the Owlery, he missed her acerbic wit. He planted Tom on the bedside table without a word and got ready for bed. Tom considered his 'jailer' for a long time after he'd fallen asleep, wondering just what his old house would ultimately make of the boy.

The days fell into a routine of getting up early to work out, eating breakfast, going to two classes, lunch, another two classes, dinner, and then homework followed by exploration of the castle. There were no more attacks on Harry or his friends, at least none that Harry could tell. Astronomy on Wednesday nights was a pain, but it was kind of fun to look up at the stars in the clear Scottish skies. Before Harry knew it, it was Friday. Harry bounced in place at his Table, his friends chuckling at his enthusiasm.

"You REALLY like Potions, don't you Harry?" Neville asked.

"What's not to like? The preparation of the ingredients, the simmering of the cauldron fire, the aroma of the fumes… and all to produce something that works magic that most spells couldn't achieve, or if they can for a fraction of the energy cost," Harry gushed on his favorite subject. "The Potters are apparently a long line of potioneers. Most of the family gold came from grandpa Fleamont inventing Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. I want to start my own company and find a way to mass-produce potions. Potter's Potions, has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Herminone frowned. "I'm not sure Ford's invention can really be applied to potions, Harry. They're too complex."

"Just think of all the processed food in the world, Hermione, someone figured out a way to make it work in the muggle world, why not the wizarding world? If I could just find a way to make potions from concentrate, I'd make a fortune!"

Daphne frowned. "What's 'concentrate'?"

Hermione explained "It's a muggle invention. You take these tiny crystals and add water to them. The crystals dissolve and the water is turned into another drink. It's done with most fruit juices, to the point where some groceries make a point of marketing differently between concentrate and fresh-squeezed juice. In theory, a concentrate potion would just need the crystals to be put into a glass of water and presto, there's a potion."

Blaise gaped. "Why that… that would put every potioneer in the country out of business!"

Harry shrugged. "Creative destruction. New jobs appear at the top as they're eliminated from the bottom. I'll need workers and supervisors in my factory, won't I?"

"You're getting a bit ahead of yourself, mate," Ron advised after another big bite. They'd all noticed by now Ron's prodigious appetite. "For now, just promise to help me not melt my cauldron, okay? Snape gives me the creeps."

Harry shrugged. "Fine, I'll get my head out of the clouds to focus on class. As long as you follow the recipe, you'll do fine, Ron." Harry blinked as Hedwig landed on his plate. He hadn't expected any post. *Hello, Hedwig, how's the Owlery?*

*My campaign for prime minister of the parliament is being met with some resistance, but I'm assured of my eventual victory,* she answered back. *Letter from the big half-giant that lives in the hut on the grounds near the forest.*

Harry raised a brow and detached the letter from Hedwig's leg.

Neville tilted his head. "You made a bunch of weird sounds at her, the same way you did at Trevor. Are you an Orator or something?"

Harry nodded. "Able to communicate with all animals. Also makes me good at picking up other languages. I can speak Latin like a Roman, and most European languages easily enough, and I picked up Gobldygook for fun. Next I'm thinking of getting Mermish in case I ever decide to go swimming in the Black Lake during the summer term."

Hermione blinked. "What's an Orator? Some magical hyperpolyglot, I presume?"

Blaise nodded. "Basically. They're very rare, but an Orator is said to speak for the animal kingdom. Any creature bigger than an insect, they can understand and speak to. They're also natural Parselmouths, which goes without saying."

"How'd you end up one of those?" Daphne asked.

Harry shrugged. "It's a simple enough ritual, though the ingredients are a bit expensive and it has to be done on one of the eight days of power. You all can do it on Mabon if I order the supplies. There's bound to be a ritual room somewhere in this castle."

Hermione dithered. "I'm not comfortable doing it without a teacher present."

While the others argued over whether they'd perform the ritual to become an Orator, Harry opened the letter from Hagrid. He had a bit of trouble with the handwriting, but realized that Hagrid was inviting him to afternoon tea, on the pretext that he'd known James and Lily and wanted to talk about them. Harry shrugged and penned a response in the affirmative on the back of the note. He gave Hedwig a good scratch and a bite of bacon and she was off to deliver the return message.

Harry, Daphne, Blaise, and Ron went down to the dungeons, Ron following the Slytherins for whom the dungeons were home. They lined up outside the right door, the other Slytherin and Gryffindor First Years appearing over time, until the bell rang and, on the dot, Professor Snape opened the door. "Get in, no more than four to a desk," he stated in his low, quiet voice.

Harry and his friends claimed a desk near the front, Harry partnering up with Ron. Snape called roll, and didn't even pause over Harry's name. That finished, he crossed his arms and seemed to glare at the whole room, with his eyes dark and black as tunnels into a mountain. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry rather thought that last part ruined the effect of the speech, but he was eager to prove he was not a dunderhead to the man that in another life may have been his godfather.

"Potter!" Snape barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Drought of Living Death, sir. And interestingly, in the language of flowers, asphodel and wormwood translate into 'bitter regret over Lily's death.'"

Snape blinked. "Yes, well, that's neither here nor there. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"Stomach of a goat, sir, though I imagine there's one in the supply cupboard over there," Harry said with a cheeky grin.

Snape's eyes flashed. "And what, pray tell, is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?"

"Trick question, they're the same plant, which is also known as aconite, Professor," Harry said, toning down the sass.

Snape gave a slow nod. "10 points to Slytherin, Potter, for having the good sense to crack open your schoolbook before class. Well? Why aren't the rest of you writing all of that down?"

"Probably because you didn't tell them to," Harry muttered under his breath, seriously wondering at Snape's teaching method. He seemed to expect them to read his mind in regards to what to do and how to prepare for class. He and his friends dutifully noted down the three questions and their answers on their parchment notebooks. Afterwards, Snape instructed them to pair up and brew a simple potion to cure boils. Harry's eyes read over the recipe, in spidery writing that his old eyesight would have played hell with, and raised his hand.

"What, Potter? Do you need me to hold your hand while you brew this potion?" Snape snapped.

"No thank you, Professor, it's just… wouldn't it be better to add the crushed snake fangs BEFORE the dried nettles? And shouldn't it be 8 stirs clockwise followed by 3 counterclockwise, instead of 11 clockwise and 1 counterclockwise?" Harry asked, confused based on all he knew about potionmaking as he read the recipe that had several minor things that were just… not wrong, but inefficient.

Snape paused and seemed to look at Harry as if for the first time. He slowly nodded. "Indeed it would, Mr. Potter. This is the standard recipe, but potionmaking is a delicate, subjective art and new improvements are found every day. The modifications you pointed out were made to this, the standard recipe for Boil Cure, in 1979, by none other than myself. I make a point of giving my classes the standard recipes and seeing if any make their own improvements. Take 50 points to Slytherin, for showing signs of a true Potioneer. Now all of you, back to work!"

Ron groaned. "Between you and Hermione, Gryffindor doesn't stand a chance in the House Cup."

Harry couldn't find it in him to apologize for his own success. He helped Ron to brew a perfect Boil Cure, and handed in their vial to Snape with a grin. The man's lips quirked just the tiniest bit in his own small smile before returning to his flat frown. Harry considered the man for the rest of the period. Tom had considered him one of his most loyal followers, but then he hadn't known how close he was to Lily Potter. The movements of the Order of the Phoenix towards the end of the war had suggested a traitor, not that Voldemort was sane enough to see it. Harry and Tom strongly believed that Snape had turned coat once Voldemort had targeted the woman he loved like a sister, or even more perhaps, a thought which mildly grossed Harry out. His teacher had fancied his mum, ew.

Harry debated staying after class to try and meet Severus rather than Professor Snape, but figured he could try later. No need to do everything all at once. He had a filling lunch and then he and his five friends all got their homework for the weekend out of the way under the shade of a nice tree in the courtyard. Ron yawned and pulled out Scabbers, whom had apparently been hiding in his bag all day.

Seeing his opportunity, Harry cast Silence and Blinding magic around Peter's head, and turned to his three extra-House friends. "Guys, what I'm about to tell you is going to make you react badly. But I trust you enough to tell it. I've already told Daphne and Blaise, but that's because the subject came up on its own."

"You can tell us anything, Harry," Hermione said emphatically.

"We're best mates, man," Ron said, not noticing his pet's mild panic at being rendered blind and deaf.

"Promise not to freak out," Neville swore.

Harry sighed. "I have a piece of Voldemort's soul in my head."

They freaked out.

Harry waved his hand. "He's mellowed out over the years. I guess my sanity helped him regain his after years of feeding on my magic. Anyway, he's like a friend to me as much as you guys are, and he's also taught me everything he knows about magic. That's part of why I can do the things I can do."

Hermione blinked. "You cheat! You have a private tutor inside your head! I'm so jealous!"

"Hermione, you NEED to sort out your priorities. He has a piece of You-Know-Who inside him!" Ron shouted.

Neville seemed to have calmed down. "Any reason you're telling us now?"

Harry nodded and turned to Scabbers. "Before he came looking for me, Voldemort managed to turn one of my parents' best friends traitor. Peter Pettigrew."

Daphne blinked. "Wait, Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater? But that would mean…"

"Yes, he framed Sirius Black, another of my parents' friends and my godfather, for the record," Harry explained.

Blaise whisteled. "Suicide move just to take down an enemy. You have to admire his guts."

"Who said he died?"

Hermione shook her head. "Okay, someone explain this to me."

"The day after my parents were killed and Voldemort disappeared, Sirius Black confronted Peter Pettigrew in a crowded street. Pettigrew reportedly was shouting about how Sirius had betrayed James and Lily, my parents. And then the street blew up. 13 muggles were killed, and all they could find of Pettigrew was his finger. Sirius was arrested and chucked in Azkaban Prison without a trial, so he never got to reveal that he hadn't been the one to cast the Blasting Curse, Pettigrew had. And then he'd vanished into the sewers in his unregistered Animagus form," Harry described for his friends.

Neville gulped. "Why are you telling us this?"

Harry pointed at Scabbers. "Pettigrew was a rat Animagus. And Ron's rat is missing a toe."

It took them a moment to grasp the information. "No," Hermione said, eyeing the rat with horror.

Ron looked like he'd been told Santa Clause was really the Boogeyman. "Scabbers… an Animagus… blimey, he sleeps in my bed! Harry, tell me you're wrong! Please, Merlin, tell me you're wrong!"

Harry shrugged. "There's only one way to find out: go to a teacher."

They all put their books in their bags and ran off for the castle.

* * *

**Too fast? Please fave, follow, or review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hope you all like this.**

* * *

The half-dozen children made for the Staff Lounge, hoping to find a Professor available at 2:00 on a Friday. They funneled into the room to find it empty but for Professor McGonagall, who seemed to be grading papers. She looked up as they came up to her, Harry in the lead. "Mr. Potter, and friends. What brings you here during your free period?" she asked curiously.

Harry nudged Ron, who held out Scabbers, or rather Pettigrew. "We got to talking about Ron's rat, Professor, and it occurred to us that he's lived a very long life for a common rat. I thought of you and raised the idea he might be a secret Animagus, and now Ron's a little freaked out. We were wondering if you could check for us," Harry said, lying smoothly with the ease of practice.

Professor McGonagall frowned. "The odds of that are extremely low, but… how long has he lived?"

"He was full-grown when my brother Percy found him in the garden ten years ago," Ron said.

"That IS curiously long for a common garden rat. Well, I suppose there's no harm in checking." McGonagall took the rat into her hand and, pulling out her wand, said "This is an OWL level spell, so it was wise that you didn't attempt this yourselves. Animagi Revelio!" Professor McGonagall cast, sending a shimmer out from her wand. Scabbers glowed white with a halo. Their Transfiguration Professor paled.

Ron groaned. "Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell, I've been molested! A grown person was sleeping in my bed! In Percy's bed too!"

"Calm down, Mr. Weasley. I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this," Professor McGonagall assured her Lion. "Though if he's an Animagus, I'm curious why he hasn't reacted to any of this conversation."

Harry raised his hand. "I took the precaution of casting a deafness jinx on him. I hope I didn't overstep my bounds."

Professor McGonagall rose a brow. "No, no, that was probably for the best, Mr. Potter. Now, let's see who exactly this is." Casting a Petrificus Totalus on the rat, McGonagall set him on the ground and prepared her wand. "Animagi Revertus!" she cast. In a blur of growth and shapeshifting, Scabbers became a mousy, pinch-faced man with big teeth dressed in rags of casual robes. The students had the honor of seeing their stoic Professor almost faint. "Merlin's wand, it's, it's Peter Pettigrew!"

Harry stepped forward and pulled up the left sleeve of his robes, revealing a faint Dark Mark. He looked up at McGonagall. "I think we need to call the Aurors, Professor. He's not just an unregistered Animagus, he's a terrorist."

McGonagall sat down. "I just… I just can't believe it. Peter Pettigrew alive, and a Death Eater! What this could mean… I mean, Sirius…" McGonagall trailed off, glancing at Harry.

"Aunt Petunia told me about my godfather, Professor. I did some research on him over the summer. Curiously, I could never find his trial statement. And hadn't Head Auror Barty Crouch been given the power to waive habeas corpus?"

McGonagall paled. "You mean, they didn't even give him a trial? They just… chucked him into Azkaban for the last decade?!"

"And he was a member of House Black. The firstborn son, at that, even if he was a bit of a black, well, white sheep. The political community will be outraged," Daphne spoke up.

McGonagall shook her head. "We need Professor Dumbledore. He'll know how to handle this." So saying, McGonagall cast her cat Patronus and told it "Albus, we have a critical situation in the Staff Lounge. Bring an Auror you trust." With that, the silvery-white feline went vanishing into the depths of the castle, moving through walls with ease.

"How is it that a spell meant to repel Dementors and Lethifolds also serves as a communication device?" Hermione asked curiously.

Professor McGonagall happily explained the theory behind the Patronus Charm and its built-in versatility, seeming to enjoy the comfort of teaching after the shock. Most of the theory went over their heads, but they nodded along, sensing the Professor needed this to calm down. Within ten minutes, Albus Dumbledore walked in with his eye-searing robes, accompanied by a very tall African man in purple robes. Dumbledore took one look at Peter Pettigrew and sighed. "Oh, dear. How did I miss this?"

"Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. What seems to be the problem here?" the auror asked stridently.

"One of my student's pets has turned out to be Peter Pettigrew, unregistered Animagus. And to top it off, he has the Dark Mark on his forearm. He must have faked his death and gone into hiding 10 years ago," McGonagall explained. "While we're on the subject, it has come to my attention that Sirius Black, Pettigrew's supposed murderer, was never tried for that crime. Did you even check his forearm before you threw him in with the Dementors?"

"Now, now, Minerva, we'll get this all sorted out. I will personally escort Mr. Pettigrew to the holding cells and ensure the Wizengamot tries him with all due haste," Dumbledore assured her.

"Meaning you'll make sure Minister Fudge doesn't try to sweep this under the rug? I'd like to have my godfather in my life, Professor. I'm pretty sure he's innocent, based on what we've learned today," Harry spoke up.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, and he sensed a gentle probe against his Mind shields. 'If you want an answer, Professor, you should ask the question,' he projected through the probe while keeping his defenses up.

Dumbledore cocked his head and nodded. "Rest assured, Mr. Potter, if I have things my way, Mr. Pettigrew will be in Mr. Black's cell in a week's time and your godfather will be a free man. And I quite often get things my way," he said with a wink behind his half-moon spectacles.

Harry nodded back with a grin. Maybe Dumbldore was an alright guy after all.

The two adult men floated Pettigrew out of the Staff Lounge and McGonagall dismissed them with a firm command not to speak of this to the other students. She also assured Ron that she would break the news to Percy and their parents herself before the news hit the papers. They all wandered back outside, and Harry remembered he had an afternoon appointment. "I have tea with Hagrid at 3:00. Apparently, he knew my parents and wants to get to know me. I said yes, anyone feel like joining me?"

"I could use some tea after the afternoon I just had," Ron sighed. "I'm in."

"Sure, Hagrid seems like a nice fellow… for his size," Neville couldn't help but add.

"He must know so much about the castle and grounds because of his job! I'd love to chat with him," Hermione said brightly.

Daphne and Blaise exchanged looks. "I suppose tea with a half-giant would be an interesting thing to put in my letter home," Daphne quibbled.

"I just want to see how he fits inside that little hut," Blaise admitted as an agreement.

Harry led them down the path towards the forbidden forest and went up to the large hut that only seemed small in terms of proportions; it was actually scaled for Hagrid and his nearly 9-foot height and bulk. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

Harry knocked and a rabid barking came from inside along with a scrabbling sound. Harry was pretty sure he heard a dopey voice shout *Friends!* in Dog. "Back, Fang, back!" Hagrid shouted before opening the door, struggling with the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

Harry introduced everyone as they settled two each to enormous wooden chairs set around the central table. At Ron's introduction, Hagrid chuckled. "I feel I spent half my life chasin' your brothers out of the forest!" he chuckled.

Hagrid served them rock cakes, shapeless lumps with raisins that nearly broke their teeth on the first bite. Harry silently sent a spell to soften them up and his friends didn't have to pretend to enjoy them for Hagrid's sake. The gentle giant proved to be pleasant company, asking about their first classes and listening politely to their answers. He seemed to have small grudge against Filch, the caretaker that stalked the halls with his trusty cat, Mrs. Norris. Why she was a missus instead of a miss was anyone's guess.

Harry cleared his throat. "So, you knew James Potter and Lily Evans?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah! Your father was the star of the school, Quidditch Captain, Head Boy. Bit of a troublemaker, but all harmless fun really. Your mum actually didn't get on with him for the longest time, but she came around their seventh year. And Lily, she earned Head Girl, that lass did. Brilliant with Potions and Charms, she had half the professors wrapped around her fingers. I have some old photos of them if you want!"

Harry stilled the hungry greed inside him to see his parents. "Actually, if you could get in touch with anyone else who knew them and make an album, that would be a lovely Christmas gift."

Hagrid's eyes brightened. "That would be a better idea. Sure thing, Harry."

The subject turned to Ron's brother Charlie, who was studying dragons in Romania. Hagrid seemed to want nothing more than a pet dragon, as dangerous an idea as that would be. While Harry shook his head, he noted a copy of the Daily Prophet laid on the table. Harry's eyes widened. "There was a break-in at Gringotts!" he announced, cutting off talk of what breeds were at the reserve Charlie worked at.

"What? That's impossible!" Blaise exclaimed.

"Just because it's never been done before doesn't make it impossible," Harry corrected gently. Picking up the paper, Harry read. "'Believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown, Gringotts goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist nothing was taken. The vault in question, number 713, had in fact been emptied earlier that very same day.'" Harry furrowed his brow. "That's a very magically powerful number. Whoever owned that vault must have kept something special inside. I wonder if they knew the break-in was coming and that's why they moved it."

"But where could possibly be safer than a goblin bank?" Daphne asked incredulously.

"Ain't no place safer than Gringotts. Except perhaps Hogwarts," Hagrid said. Then he blanched and muttered "I shouldn't have said that."

Harry's devious and fairy-trained mind connected the separate dots. "The third-floor corridor! That's what's hidden there! Whatever was in Vault 713!"

Hagrid refused to answer, all but looking up at the ceiling and whistling to pretend he wasn't listening.

Hermione eyed Hagrid. "That's a bit of a leap, Harry. I mean, protections aside, why hide a powerful magical artifact in a school instead of some magical bunker or secret hideout?"

Harry thought of the original soul shard of Voldemort hiding on the back of Quirrell's head. "As bait, to draw out whoever made the break-in attempt."

"That's crazy! Who'd risk all the school children just to catch some criminal?" Neville demanded.

"Dumbledore. Dumbledore would," Blaise said solemnly. "It's just his style. Risk a little or even a lot to win the war in the end. In chess terms, he's exactly the kind who'd make a Queen's Sacrifice play."

"Now, see here! Albus Dumbledore is a great man! And if, I say, IF he hid something in the school, then that's his business and we should all trust him. The contents of that corridor are strictly between him and Nicholas Flamel!" Hagrid protested, only to slap his hand over his mouth. "I think it's best you all leave," he muttered, standing up and opening the door.

Harry barely contained himself before they were all outside. "Nicholas Flamel! It's the Philosopher's Stone! That's what was in the Vault!"

He got blank looks from all but Daphne, who was raised to be aware of the rich and powerful of the wizarding world. "The Philosopher's Stone, the pinnacle of Alchemy, the stone with the power to turn any metal to gold and produce the Elixir of Life which makes you immortal," Daphne explained to the others.

Ron's eyes lit up. "Riches and long life, who wouldn't want that?"

"The question is who DOES want it? Who broke into Gringotts? And will they try to break into Hogwarts?" Neville asked worriedly.

Harry debated telling them, but figured they'd had enough shocks for one afternoon. "Well, it's not really any of our business. We're just First Years. Let the Professors worry about a dangerous criminal trying to force their way into the third-floor corridor," Harry reasoned.

"True enough," Blaise sighed. "Now, can we finally just relax for an afternoon?"

They played a few games of Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess from a deck and board that Harry kept in his backpack, which of course was expanded on the inside much like his trunk. Ron and Harry proved to be great chess opponents. Ron was a brilliant strategist, and had probably read a few chess manuals over the years. Plus he'd witnessed hundreds of games over the years in the Weasley household. Harry, on the other hand, had a unique way of looking at the world and a sly cunning that came from years of having to sneak his own food. They would up getting a stalemate, which was apparently the first time Ron hadn't decisively won a game since he was 9.

They went to dinner afterwards, and Harry, having already gotten his homework done, went on his exploring venture early with Daphne and Blaise. They had found the Library, and that promised to be a common spot for their group if Harry and Hermione had any say in it. Dragging himself away from the books, Harry continued with the investigation of the first and second floors. He paused outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Harry, this is a girl's toilet," Blaise said worriedly, not wanting to be caught snooping by a Prefect.

"And it's out of order. It's haunted by this weeping ghost," Daphne elaborated.

Harry nodded. "I know. She was Tom's first victim."

The Slytherins froze. "Moaning Myrtle was killed by the Dark Lord?" Daphne asked, incredulous.

"Using his pet Basilisk. Well, it was really Salazar Slytherin's Basilisk, but since he was the Heir of Slytherin he pretty much inherited her. One look and poof, stiff as a board. It was her own bad luck for crying in the bathroom that houses the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry answered.

"THE Chamber of Secrets? Salazar's secret hideaway within the castle? It's hidden in a girl's lavatory?" Blaise asked indignantly.

"The last place anyone would look, don't you think?" Harry pointed out. "Anyway, we should be moving on."

They made it back to the Common Room by curfew, and Harry kept his eyes peeled for any attacks. He mused that living in Slytherin was making him paranoid, except it wasn't paranoia when someone really does want to curse your face off. He debated just doing a negativity purge of the whole House like he'd done for the Dursleys, but then their parents and families would notice something off and go investigating. So that easy fix was out.

The weekend passed by pleasantly, the group indeed hanging out in the Library, where even Ron found something to read in chess books and books of 'fun' spells Harry found for him. The Restricted Section called to Harry like a siren's song, but he remained strong. All those special, magical, booby-trapped books could be explored at a later date.

The next week was much the same as the first, Harry slowly slipping into a steady routine. The first bit of real excitement came on Thursday morning. They were sitting at the Hufflepuff Table, and they were all discussing their first flying lesson that afternoon, the first week being cancelled to give them time to settle in. Neville was almost as nervous as he was in Potions, which from what Harry heard was nervous breakdown level. He'd done terribly on toy brooms growing up, and he was afraid of heights besides. Hermione was much the same; this was one subject that couldn't be learned from a book.

"Madam Hooch will be there the whole time. None of you are going to break your necks falling from a hundred feet or anything," Harry tried to reassure, with mixed results.

"Why'd you have to say that? Now I'm going to worry about that too!" Neville gibbered.

"Do you need a Calming Draught? It'll wear off by the time the lessons actually start but you seem to need it," Harry asked his cowardly friend.

Neville accepted the vial Harry summoned from within his book bag and within a minute had a serene smile on his face.

"You really ARE a good potioneer," Daphne observed, accepting her copy of the Daily Prophet from her owl, Atticus. She unfolded it and blinked. "'Sirius Black Innocent? Peter Pettigrew a Traitor? Emergency Trials Tell All!'. Well, seems Dumbledore gets things done when he wants to."

Harry looked up at the Headmaster and gave a genuine smile. Dumbledore raised his goblet in acknowledgment, his own smile sans any mind probes returned at Harry. Harry listened as Daphne read the article aloud for their group of friends. Apparently, the trials were held back to back and were so high-profile that the use of Veritaserum, the strongest truth potion in the wizarding world, had been authorized. Pettigrew had sung like a bird, revealing how he'd turned traitor and joined the Death Eaters over a year before the death of Harry's parents. How he had framed Sirius when the distraught man came looking for him. How he'd hidden with the Weasley family until he was caught by 'Hogwarts staff'. Immediately afterwards, Sirius Black got the trial he should have had a decade ago. He confessed how he wasn't the Secret-Keeper for the Potters, how he'd realized something was wrong that Halloween and gone after Pettigrew, and how he'd had a nervous breakdown once Peter escaped and was in a fugue state from the time of his arrest to the time he came to in Azkaban.

Pettigrew was sentenced to 50 years in Azkaban, appropriately in the cell of the man he'd framed, while Sirius was transferred to St. Mungo's for rehabilitation after years in prison and awarded a hefty compensation fund from an apologetic Ministry. Harry nodded, satisfied that things had worked out well. Maybe he'd visit Sirius over the winter holidays.

The only other thing that happened over breakfast was Neville's gran sending him a Remembrall, a rather useless device that filled with red smoke when the holder had forgotten something, without bothering to inform them of what they'd forgotten. Neville had shrugged and tossed it into his book bag, still too mellow from the Calming Draught to worry about what he'd forgotten that morning.

The news about Pettigrew and Black was the talk of the school that day, everyone muttering during class and chatting about it in the hallways. Given how closely linked the two had been to Harry's family, he got a little more staring than usual. He endured it easily, truly not caring what other people thought of him. He had Tom, he had his friends, he had his family. Those were the only people that really mattered to him.

In no time, it was time for flying lessons. The First Years all assembled in the grounds on the opposite side as the forest. There was a long, flat lawn of green grass that rippled in the wind, and several broomsticks assembled in a line on the ground. Madam Hooch was waiting and standing at the head of the line. Harry had only to glance at the school brooms to see that their magic was beginning to fray. Neville's and Hermione's worries might be justified. Harry silently sent a wave of magic to repair the brooms, hoping no one would notice as their color improved and tails straightened.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson," Madam Hooch said when they had all assembled. "Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone, step up next to a broom." The 11-year-olds all obeyed her. "Stick your right hand over your broom and say 'up!'."

"Up!" Harry commanded, his palm stinging as his broom lifted right into his hand with explosive force. Harry's was one of the few brooms that even moved.

"With feeling!" Madam Hooch instructed. Harry's friends were among the first to get their brooms in hand, though Ron's had laughably smacked him in the face first. Malfoy had been just behind Harry in getting his broom, suggesting he hadn't been totally lying when he boasted that his parents had let him ride a real broom before.

"Now that you've gotten hold of your broom, I want you to mount it," Madam Hooch ordered, before going down the line and correcting grips and stances. Harry's group all shared a grin when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. "On my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground, hard. You'll lift off, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down. On my whistle! 3, 2, …" she blew her whistle.

They all lifted off, some higher than others. Neville seemed to be in the midst of a panic attack even just being a few inches off the ground. Harry reached over to pat his shoulder, balancing on one hand easily. He could fly without a broom, he could certainly fly on a broom. "Calm down, Neville. You're in control of the broom, not the other way around," Harry comforted his Hufflepuff friend.

"Right… r-right," Neville muttered, before eagerly leaning forward to return to the ground on Madam Hooch's whistle.

"Not bad, not bad at all. Potter, risky move taking your hand off the broom but you seemed to keep control anyway. You just might have inherited your father's talent. Anyway, everyone, now we're going to do a small lap of the lawn."

Madam Hooch spent the rest of the period leading them through gentle exercises, before the last five minutes where she allowed them to cut loose and do whatever they wanted under her supervision. Unable to resist, Harry went off to perform some aerial acrobatics. Loop-de-loops, corkscrews, barrel rolls. He even did what Ron later informed him was a Wronsky Feint, when he'd dived straight for the ground and pulled up with inches to spare. Harry simply relished in the freedom of flight. He'd take this over invisibility any day.

Madam Hooch looked like she couldn't decide whether to applaud or scream at him. "That was… very dangerous behavior, Mr. Potter. By rights, I should deduct points. But… I just can't bring myself to after such a show of talent. And this is your first time on a broomstick?"

"If you don't count the toy broom when I was 1, yeah," Harry said honestly.

"Amazing. You could fly for England when you graduate with that level of skill. Come contact me if you ever seriously want to pursue a career in flying, I know a few people in the Quidditch community." With that, Hooch let him go to be swarmed by his friends and in fact most of the First Years.

"That was wicked, Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "Just promise you'll never try out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team."

"Are you kidding? He should show up to tryouts this Saturday! Who cares about the first year restriction? He could keep our winning streak going the next seven years!" Blaise protested.

Harry brought his fingers to his mouth and gave a loud whistle to quiet down the crowd. "Guys, relax. I fly for fun, not for sport. If Snape personally asks me, I'll consider going for the team. Otherwise, I'll be watching in the stands along with the rest of you."

Daphne and Blaise exchanged looks, determined to get Harry on the House team. Hooch dismissed them all to go to dinner. They walked back through the grounds towards the castle, hotly debating Harry's chances of becoming the youngest Quidditch player in living memory. Harry only rolled his eyes at his friends' antics.

Harry enjoyed dinner with his friends, and to his embarrassment Daphne and Blaise indeed went up to the Head Table to talk to Professor Snape. Ron and Neville hung their heads, already seeing their chances for the Quidditch Cup as well as the House Cup go up in smoke. Hermione rolled her eyes at the male preoccupation with sports. Snape swooped down towards the Gryffindor Table where they were seated and came up to Harry.

"So, Mr. Potter, reportedly you're quite the flyer," Snape said in a tone that could either be praising or disparaging depending how you heard it.

"It just… felt easy. I'm sorry if I had a little too much fun in front of the other students, Sir," Harry answered back.

"Yes, well, I find myself curious to see for myself. I expect to see you at tryouts, bright and early, at 9:00 Saturday morning on the Quidditch pitch. You'll be trying out on a school broom, but that shouldn't prove a problem based on today's performance. On the off chance you impress the Captain, we'll have to see about getting you a proper broom for our first match in November. I've gotten quite used to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my office, Mr. Potter." With that statement, Snape stalked off for the main doors.

"Well that wasn't ominous or anything. He realizes there are six other players on the team, right?" Harry asked his friends.

"Yeah, but if you go for Seeker, that's the most important position on the team. It almost always comes down to who catches the Golden Snitch first, our Chasers aren't THAT good," Blaise explained, sitting back down beside Harry.

"Haven't you any House pride?" Daphne demanded. "You could help us rake in the points!"

"Daphne, look where we're sitting. I consider the Houses to be a color on your robes and the place you sleep, not some sacred institution I sold my soul to," Harry said with a raised brow. "I don't want to go through life defined as JUST a Slytherin. I don't want to just be cunning. I want to be brave, loyal, and smart too. And I think we should all strive to emulate all four Houses at the same time. The Hat picked which trait you had the most of, not the only one you had," Harry argued.

HIs friends and the nearby Gryffindors seemed to pause and consider that. "Maybe we do take House lines a little too seriously," one fourth-year mused aloud before returning to her steak-and-kidney pie.

"And take this thing Ron and Neville have about me 'stealing' the House and Quidditch Cups. I mean, are school sports team victories and arbitrary numbers of reward and punishment really going to matter when we graduate? In the real world, I can understand rooting for your favorite team like blood was on the line, people gamble on sports games. And commendations and demerits on your work file matter a lot more than House points. The point I'm trying to make, is that we're in SCHOOL. We're here to learn, and all this other stuff is just window dressing to what should be the main experience. We're here to become full-fledged witches and wizards, not earn points."

Speech done, Harry focused on his food while his friends digested what he'd had to say.

Later, Harry explored the third floor with Daphne and Blaise, and both apologized to him for forcing the Quidditch issue. Harry shrugged. "Eh, it might be fun. And it'd be a nice way to honor my father, though I'm sure he rolled over in his grave when I was Sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor."

Daphne shuddered. "Imagine if you had been. MALFOY would be the head of the First Years, and probably have the ear of most of the upperclassmen considering who his father is."

"If I could find a way to get the stick out his ass, he might actually be worth befriending. I'm betting no one's ever been interested in Draco instead of Heir Malfoy," Harry mused. Harry paused outside the forbidden corridor, the door utterly unprotected except for a silent alarm that from what he could tell had been cast by Dumbledore. Curious, Harry held his ear against the door, ignoring Blaise saying "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Harry."

*... Food? Or enemy?* questioned a multilayered voice in Dog to Harry's ear.

Harry pulled back his head and eyed the door speculatively. "Now, where the hell did Hagrid get his hands on a Cerberus?" he wondered aloud.

"A Cerberus? In a school? How did they even fit it in there?" Daphne asked, alarmed.

"They were hardly just going to leave the Stone lying on the ground in this room. I bet there's a whole gauntlet of protections made by at least half the staff. I'm quite curious what Dumbledore's is," Harry mused as they walked away before Filch materialized and yelled at them for being near the forbidden corridor.

"What would you do with a Philosopher's Stone?" Blaise asked as they continued to catalogue unused classrooms.

Daphne chuckled. "Probably fuck off to a private island and live in the lap of luxury surrounding by half-naked male servants for all eternity. What about you?"

"Get enough money that Maman can finally marry for love instead of wealth, and then probably make enough to bribe my way to Minister of Magic," Blaise said with a chuckle. "What about you Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I probably wouldn't use the gold transmutation all that much, I'm plenty wealthy as it is. I'm really interested in living forever, though, or at least for a few thousand years. I'd like to see what the muggles come up with, see what the wizards come up with, and I'm very curious to see the Singularity and the golden age of space colonization."

"Okay, the day we set up a colony on Mars is the day I eat my knickers. And what the bloody hell is the Singularity?" Daphne demanded.

Harry explained "The muggles have invented machines that can think called 'computers'. The Singularity is the hypothetical point when a computer becomes smarter than a human being. It's called the Singularity after a term in physics for a point past which all the rules fall apart. It'll be impossible to predict what this superintelligent computer will do. A lot of muggles in the academic community are equally excited and terrified for it."

"And when is this supposed Singularity supposed to happen?" Blaise asked his muggle-raised friend incredulously.

"Some say as early as 2030, some say not until 2100, some say never. I personally would bet money on it happening by 2060, just to be conservative, but in our lifetimes for sure," Harry answered. "What you have to understand is that the muggles are advancing at an exponential pace. They build more and do more and learn more every year. As opposed to the wizarding world, which is lucky to have a major innovation once or twice a generation." Harry looked over his shoulder. "Don't you agree, Professor Dumbledore?"

Daphne and Blaise froze. They looked behind them to see that, indeed, the Headmaster of Hogwarts was standing behind them, apparently listening in on their conversation. "Professor Dumbledore, sir. How long have you been there?" Daphne asked faintly.

"Since your rather colorful remark about ingesting your underwear should humanity land and live on the red planet," he said with his twinkling eyes. "Now, if you and Mr. Zabini wouldn't mind, Ms. Greengrass, I'd like to borrow Mr. Potter before curfew."

Harry nodded to both of them, and sent them on their way back to the Slytherin Common Room. He silently cast Invulnerability magic around each of them, just in case they should be attacked when he wasn't there to protect them. He turned to Dumbledore, and just then deciphered the magic imbued in his spectacles. "Artificial Mage Sight, nice. Your own work?" Harry asked.

"A souvenier from my artificer days before teaching and running this school consumed me," Dumbledore responded. "You told me that if I wanted answers, I should ask the questions. Would you care if I asked them over a cup of tea?"

"Lead the way, Professor," Harry said obediently. Harry followed the supercentenarian up to the seventh floor and up to the statue of a gargoyle positively brimming with magic. "Fudge Flies," Dumbledore intoned, apparently the password, as the gargoyle came to life and jumped aside, revealing a spiral staircase that moved. Dumbledore led Harry up it, almost making him dizzy, to a wooden door which opened into a chaotic office.

Harry almost went blind from all the different magical signatures imbued in the room. There were the portraits, apparently of past Headmasters and Headmistresses. There were the shelves upon shelves of magical artifacts, each one unique and distinct from the other. And there was the blazing fire in bird form that was the phoenix on a perch beside Dumbledore's desk. Harry noted a Familiar Bond between it and Dumbledore, and he was quite curious how he'd accomplished that feat. Harry had a Familiar Bond with Hedwig, but then she was an owl, it was almost pro forma for a wizard to bond with one of the avian creatures. A phoenix was much harder to get willing consent from.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore asked after he'd sat behind his desk and poured them both tea from a pot.

Harry eyed the tray of plastic-wrapped yellow sweets. "You have any that aren't potion-laced? Calming Draught, right?"

"Indeed. I must confess that I'm physically addicted to them," Dumbledore said with a self-conscious shrug. "Sorry, there the only kind I have."

Harry nodded. "Just the tea, thanks. And I won't even protest at the Veritaserum. I have nothing to hide," Harry said before taking a big gulp of the Earl Grey.

In a show of trust, Dumbledore took a sip of his own tea, guaranteeing this would be an honest conversation. Setting his cup down, Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "To the most important question first. Who are you?"

"Harry James Potter," Harry replied without hesitation. "If you were expecting me to say 'Tom Marvolo Riddle', you should know, he's been exorcised from my scar."

Dumbledore's eyes lit up as if he'd heard the best news possible. "And who did that, if I might ask?"

"I did, with some help from the one who taught me magic," Harry answered.

"And who was that?" Dumbledore asked, genuinely curious.

Harry uncloaked Tom and plopped him on the desk between them. "Ask him yourself," Harry said, using one of the loopholes of Veritaserum. Tom HAD taught him magic. Just not as much as Gadzooks had.

Tom's eyes lit up like fireflies. "Get your gloating in now, Albus. You've seen me reduced to a child's toy."

Dumbledore tilted his head. "Tom? You sound… much less angry than the last time we met."

"One of the benefits of a living Horcrux, my soul fed on his until it was back to a complete whole. It got kind of crowded with both of us in one body so Harry stuck me in this muggle science classroom tool," Tom spat out. "In any case, I'm restored to my sanity, for the first time since I made my first Horcrux back in sixth-year."

Dumbledore sighed and nodded. "So it was you who killed Myrtle. Oh, Tom."

"You're the one who believes in eleventh chances! I freely admit that I was a narcissistic, murderous twat with an irrational fear of death and a willingness to do any and everything to avoid it. Luckily, the brat here has reformed me, mostly by accident but still. I've done nothing more evil than teach him curses," Tom protested.

"And so Mr. Potter's prodigious level of talent can all be attributed to you?" Dumbledore asked dubiously.

"I might have a few talents that can be attributed to rituals," Harry said carefully. Most of his wishes indeed had a ritual equivalent somewhere out there in the world.

"And okay, encouraged a 10-year-old to make permanent magical alterations to his body and core. But still! I'm… if not Light, then certainly not Dark anymore. I'm Grey, let's leave it at that," Tom said.

Dumbledore eyed the skull. "And I suppose you also taught him the ritual to give you back a body?"

"One or two of them. But since he has all the power in this relationship, it's up to him if and when he resurrects me," Tom muttered grumpily.

The phoenix hopped over onto the desk and leaned down to lock an eye with Tom's werelights. After a moment, the bird sat up and crooned *He is pure, Albus. Not pure good, but pure.* Harry almost cried at the musical beauty of the phoenix's birdsong.

"Thank you, Fawkes," Dumbledore said, before locking eyes on Harry. "Mr. Potter, do I have your word that you will never use an Unforgivable Curse on anyone in this school?"

"Does reflecting them like I did with that sixth-year boy count?" Harry asked back.

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose that's allowable."

"Then yes, I swear. I was never going to sink as low as them just to protect me and my friends. It's not enough to fight the darkness, you need to stand apart from it. As Martin Luther King, Jr. said 'Hate will not drive out hate; only love can do that.'"

Dumbledore nodded. "You are wise beyond your years, Harry."

"I try to do my best, that's all. Now, if I've been counting the minutes properly, I should just barely have enough time to get back to my Common Room if I sprint," Harry said, standing up.

Dumbledore gave a boyish grin. "Fawkes might be able to provide you a shortcut," he said as Harry took Tom's skull and set it back on his shoulder.

Harry turned to the beautiful red-and-gold bird and hesitantly held out his arm. Fawkes leapt onto it, feeling much lighter than he had any right to be, and then… Harry could only say that it was like 'poofing' but with fire instead of smoke. Harry found himself in the hallway beside the charmed wall that guarded the Common Room.

Thanking Fawkes in Bird, to the phoenix's delight, Harry said "Dragonpox," and walked in on a scene that made his blood boil.

Daphne and Blaise were being held down and punches and kicks were being attempted to fall on them, blocked at the last millimeter by Harry's protective magic.

"ENOUGH!" Harry roared, letting his magic loose for the first time since he could remember. It expanded out like a wave, picking things up and throwing them or spontaneously setting them on fire or encasing them in ice. When it hit the students of Slytherin apart from Daphne and Blaise, they were lifted up in the air like they were underwater.

Harry stalked through the room towards his friends, paying no mind to those struggling to move or even breathe from the weight of his magic. Harry offered them both his hand, lifting them up to stand. He turned to those that had been assaulting them, their faces pale white as they felt the raw magical might of Harry James Potter.

"I warned you all what would happen if you attacked me or mine," Harry said in a low voice that carried throughout the room. "Since I just came from a meeting with the Headmaster, where i promised to be lenient in ruling this house, I'll keep things mild. Every spell you cast on Daphne and Blaise, every blow you attempted to throw, you shall feel yourselves."

The bullies' eyes widened and their faces turned grey. Harry could only imagine what they'd cast on the innocent First Years, and he was quite eager to find out. "Feel it!" Harry commanded, as he took the magic wrapped around Daphne and Blaise, reversed it, and sent it back at them all. They all writhed and shuddered in the characteristic sign of the Cruciatus, and their faces became bloodied and battered. After five minutes, they were unconscious or wished they were.

Mildly appeased, Harry withdrew his magic back in himself. Everyone fell to the floor with a thump, to sounds of mild discomfort from the unaffected students and whimpers of pain from those that had assaulted Harry's friends.

"Those who participated have been punished. Those who stood watch need their own reprimand," Harry said ominously. "I now take from you a word. I will not tell you which one. But when you use it, you shall feel a shock, which shall grow each time you use it. For your own sakes', I hope you learn to stop using it soon." With that, Harry cast the curse on one of Slytherin House's favorite words.

Then he stalked off to his bedroom, making sure Daphne and Blaise were close behind him. He gave a silent nod to both before retreating to his bedroom. He locked the door magically and then plopped on the bed. "What does it say that after all that, a part of me feels bad for the mess I made for the House Elves?" Harry asked Tom.

"It shows that you still have a conscience, and you care about others, even those that most dismiss. A weakness according to some, a strength according to others. Make of it what you will," Tom said from his shoulder.

"I guess part of me will never forget when I was little better than a House Elf myself," Harry mused, thinking of the nine years of bad memories hiding behind the last amazing year and few months.

Harry put Tom on his bedside table, got dressed, and settled in to sleep, exhausted after a long day.

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	5. Chapter 5

**I'm afraid I may have jumped the shark this chapter, but it's what felt right to write. Hope you enjoy it.**

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Friday dawned clear and bright, and Harry got in his morning exercise and had finished his shower before he saw another living soul. Blaise came out of his room to greet Harry before he even knocked, evidently adjusting his internal clock to match the usual time Harry woke him. They met up with Daphne waiting in the Common Room and strode like royalty through the den of snakes, others parting before them with no small amount of fear and respect.

"I consider it one of the coups of my life that I had the good luck for you to approach me at the Welcoming Feast. Now I'm a part of the King's court," Daphne said as they entered the Great Hall.

"You still think that, even after last night?" Harry questioned.

"Those shields you cast on us protected us from everything they tried. And to feel your full power was an experience I'll take to my grave," Blaise said solemnly as they took their seats at the Slytherin Table.

"Think they all finally got the message?" Harry asked as he helped himself to a couple waffles and reached for the jug of warm maple syrup.

"The ones that didn't are so terminally stupid that they don't even matter. You're King of Slytherin, now, and they all know it," Daphne told him with certainty.

"Not bad for only two weeks of school, don't you think?" Harry joked to take his mind off the enormity of the concept. The House Court was a hallowed institution in Slytherin, according to Tom's memories, and to have claimed the throne without even playing the game was an unprecedented feat. Harry now spoke for House Slytherin, and to a large degree could dictate their group behavior.

"What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about, anyway?" Blaise asked.

"Dumbledore talked to Harry?" Hermione, always an early riser, asked as she sat down across from them.

A seventh-year Harry was certain had a parent in Azkaban muttered "What's the mudblood -" And that's as far as he got before he flinched. Harry gave his most innocent grin at the man, and he paled and gulped before standing up and changing his seat.

"What did he call me?" Hermione demanded, confused.

"Calling a muggleborn 'mudblood' is like calling a black person the N-word. It's a very rude slur, and unfortunately all but institutionalized in the upper years of Slytherin. So it's a good thing I cursed the word last night," Harry told Hermione.

"You… cursed the word? How?" Hermione asked.

"Don't worry, it only works within the bounds of Hogwarts. I won't curse the entire English-speaking world. I just tied the curse to the wards of Hogwarts, so it's sustained by the magic that leaks off all of us when we do our casting every day. They'll get a zap like from a shock collar every time they say the word, with increasing voltage with each utterance," Harry explained with a grin. "As for how, I can show you a book on long-term spells in my library."

"Something about the way you said that makes me think you COULD curse the English-speaking world if you wanted to," Hermione said with trepidation. "You're aware you're a prodigy on the scale of Merlin and Dumbledore, or at least freakishly powerful for your age?"

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "I could probably sit my OWLs today with all Tom's taught me, if not my NEWTs. But that would be boring. It's the experience of school that's the real fun. I'll graduate with the rest of you, don't worry."

"Very well. Now back to my first question, what did Professor Dumbledore want with you?"

"Dumbledore wanted something with Harry?" Ron asked, bravely sitting at the Table of Snakes, Neville sitting beside him.

"He invited me to tea last night. I'm pretty sure it was mostly to make sure that Tom wasn't possessing me and that was the reason for my talent and odd behavior. I told him the truth, and he basically gave me his blessing to be me and leave Tom and I alone. He also let his pet phoenix give me a ride to the dungeons from the seventh-floor. Fire travel is fascinating," Harry told his group of friends. "Now, have any of you lot made friends in your own Houses?"

Hermione shrugged. "I've got more than enough boys with you lot, and the other Ravenclaw girls are all jealous of how I'm the first person the Professors call on. I'm alone on the home front."

"Seamus and Dean are decent blokes, but Seamus is a hard-core Gryffindor who doesn't want to interact with other Houses. Dean, I might be able to convince to join us. He's obsessed with this 'football' thing, maybe you and Hermione could talk to him about that. And I haven't talked to Parvati or Lavender, but they seem REALLY girly. Like, even compared to normal girls our age," Ron told them all.

"Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott are really nice," Neville said. "But the boys have somehow got it into their heads that you're the next Dark Lord and You-Know-Who came that night to wipe out the competition. After all, only an incredibly Dark wizard could have survived the Killing Curse. They keep telling me I should have nothing to do with you."

Harry sighed. "Do I need to hold a freaking press conference and spell it out to people? I was 1. Year. Old. I did nothing, it was my mum that saved me that night."

Daphne leaned forward. "Wait, you know why the Dark Lord vanished?"

Harry turned to her and tapped his forehead. She blushed and leaned back. "Right, sorry, go on."

"It really was my mum that killed him. I was just the proxy. She used a sacrificial rite. Voldemort offered her three chances to stand aside. She refused him three times. And then he killed her. And her life and magic, instead of vanishing past the Veil, wrapped around me like a cloak. I was, from that moment, protected from any magic that Voldemort could have cast at me. Against him and him alone, I was immune to any spell. So when he cast the Avada Kedavra at me, my mother's blood protection reflected it and his own Killing Curse hit him. And that made the fraction of his soul that I call Tom split off and attach to me, while the rest, anchored by the dark rituals he'd performed to the Earth, vanished off to Albania, from what I hear," Harry told them.

Blaise paled. "So… he's technically not gone? He's still barely alive somewhere?"

"Not even barely alive so much as not fully dead. He's a wraith, a shade, less than the meanest ghost. But still technically this side of the Veil, so he got what he wanted with his quest for immortality," Harry explained.

Ron shuddered. "So… could he come back? The real You-Know-Who, not Tom?"

"If he found someone he could possess and managed to gather the right ritual ingredients, then yes he could regain a body complete with a magical core. Luckily, Tom and I have a plan to make sure that doesn't happen. And I'll tell you the details just soon as you all learn Occlumency," Harry said before taking a bite of his waffles.

"Occlumency? The magic of protecting your mind? Are you saying you're afraid someone could read our minds and find out the secret?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Dumbledore reads the minds of every student. And I hear Professor Snape is an accomplished Legillimens himself. To say nothing of the upperclassmen who dabble in it in their spare time. Besides, there's other benefits to learning Occlumency. You can get a photographic memory, makes answering tests easy as pie," Harry said.

Neville shrugged. "My gran tried to teach me once. It didn't go so well."

"You didn't learn with me, Neville. You didn't learn with me. How about we spend free period down by our tree and I'll show you all how to do it?" Harry asked.

They all nodded and then the Slytherins and Ron went down to the dungeons for double Potions. Snape spent the first five minutes doing roll and returning homework, and then he spent fifteen minutes testing them all randomly on stuff they technically should already know… assuming they'd read their school book cover to cover and memorized it. Harry and surprisingly Draco fared very well, while the rest of the students didn't. Harry supposed that even Draco couldn't be completely useless, and there was no reason he couldn't have a talent at potions just like Harry did. Then Professor Snape spelled a recipe on the board and told them to partner up and brew.

Harry scanned the recipe and gave an updated version to his friends. Then he proceeded to brew, making a point of casting a barrier around his cauldron to prevent outside detritus from mixing in by accident. Harry handed in his vial, confident he'd earned an 'O', and handed Snape a small note. Raising a brow, Snape read it.

'_Uncle Severus (that's what I think of you as)_

_I know you were very close with my mother. And according to Aunt Petunia, toward the end of her life she hoped to reconcile you but her activities with the Order of the Phoenix and then her need to go into hiding prevented her from contacting you. Anyway, I'd very much appreciate the chance to get to know you as Lily's son and Lily's friend rather than as student and Professor. If I've overstepped my bounds, I apologize. _

_Sincerely yours,_

_Harry Potter'_

Turning a curious shade of grey, Snape sat down at his desk and gave no more indication that he even acknowledged Harry's existence. Shrugging, Harry went back to his desk and watched the rest of the class brew. At the end, Snape assigned them six inches of parchment on the usage of the potion they'd just made and called out "Mr. Potter, stay after."

Harry packed his things and waved his friends goodbye as they left the classroom with a smile to assure them. He turned to his Professor, who was looking at him with piercing eyes.

"So… Petunia told you about me?" Snape asked flatly.

"The way she told it, in another life I'd have been your son instead of James'," Harry told him honestly. "You and my mum were supposedly glued at the hip until the summer after fifth year when you called her a you-know-what."

Snape sighed and hung his head. "In the space of one breath, I ruined the one true friendship I ever had. But for your own piece of mind, Mr. Potter, know that I saw your mother as a sister only."

Harry nodded. "Then I'm very sorry that you two never made up. And I've gathered from certain sources that you and my dad had a rather… contentious relationship."

"We waged war against each other, Mr. Potter, make no mistake. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see he gave as good as he got, but make no mistake: your father had a very low tolerance for all those guilty of being Sorted into Slytherin."

Harry sighed. "It sucks to hear that a bully helped spawn me, but I like to think he had grown up at least a little by the time he married Mum and had me. And he did die fighting off Voldemort, so you can't say he was a coward."

Snape shuddered. "I shouldn't be surprised you don't fear his name. You weren't raised to. And something tells me even if you had been, you'd have the foolishness to say it anyway."

"Foolishness, guts, tomato, tomahto," Harry said with a cheeky grin.

"The Hat considered you for Gryffindor, didn't it?" Snape asked with a wry quirk to his mouth.

"It considered me for all four, actually. I told it to put me where I'd do the most good. In its own words, I'm to be the face of the new Slytherin," Harry told his Professor and Head of House.

Snape's eyes flashed. "Don't think I'm ignorant to source of the injuries plaguing my upperclassmen the past couple weeks. I'm curious as to how you gathered the skill so early, or how, based on the whispers I've heard, you claimed the House crown just last night."

Harry smiled. "Ask Professor Dumbledore about Tom the skull. He'll tell you."

Snape rose a brow but didn't question further. "After your Quidditch tryout, you may choose to have luncheon in my private quarters. There, we will discuss your mother. Now run along, Mr. Potter. I'm sure your friends are on tenterhooks waiting in the hall outside."

Harry left the classroom, where indeed Daphne, Blaise, and Ron were waiting for him. "Relax, we just talked about some personal things and he invited me to a private lunch with him."

Ron blinked. "Is this about how he knew your mum when they were kids?"

"Very good, Ron," Harry said, patting his head like Ron were a good dog.

"Shove off, Harry!" Ron protested, grinning despite himself.

They met up with Hermione and Neville at lunch, picking a Table pretty much at random. Ron's brothers Fred and George joined them. "What's this we hear about young Harry being the best flyer that Hogwarts has seen in a century?"

"Last we heard, that honor went to our brother Charlie," the other said. Harry could tell them apart based on their magical signatures, but he'd yet to attach the right name to each one.

"Guys, he pulled off a Wronski Feint so close his knees brushed the grass! I'm telling you, you need to tell Wood to up training and get a first-rate Seeker!" Ron told his older brothers.

"Ickle Ronnikins, if you knew Wood, you wouldn't tell him to up training," a twin said.

"He's already mad about it. He's determined to have a Quidditch Cup to his credit as Captain before he graduates in two years," the other finished.

Harry shrugged. "I may not even go for Seeker. I could be Keeper or Chaser. I had terrible aim at cricket so probably best I don't try for Beater."

Daphne slammed her hand on the table. "No. You will be Seeker. You've the proper build for it, and you have the eyesight. You can read Professor Snape's chalk writing, you can spot the Snitch while mid-flight."

Harry held up his hands appeasingly. "Alright, Daphne. I'll try out for Seeker tomorrow."

"Oh good Lord, it's not just the boys," Hermione lamented. Neville patted her shoulder.

"So, it has not escaped our notice that three ickle Snakes go on walkabouts around the castle each night," the twin that spoke first said. At this point, Harry was tempted to get them 'Thing 1' and 'Thing 2' sweaters for Christmas.

"Hoping to find all the secret passageways? Learn all the secrets of Hogwarts?" the second twin asked.

"Pretty much. My dad and a group of his friends did the same thing. Made their own map and everything. I'm hoping to do the same," Harry told them.

The twins froze. "Say, Harry, this group of your dad's friends?"

"Did they have a special name?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. My dad James was Prongs. Sirius Black was Padfoot. Remus Lupin was Moony. And Peter Pettigrew, may he rot in Azkaban, was Wormtail. Together they were the Marauders. Supposedly they have their own filing cabinet in Filch's office."

The twins stood up and proceeded to bow and genuflect before Harry. "We are not worthy! We are not worthy! We are not worthy to bask in the presence of a son of a Marauder!" they said in unison.

Ron eyed his brothers like they'd split and grown a triplet. "What's with you two? Why you so impressed with these Marauders?"

"Why, Ronniekins," Twin 1 said, "The Marauders are the prankster gods Forge and I worship!"

"We shall never live up to them, but we'll do our best," Twin 2 said with starry eyes.

Harry rose a brow. "And the fact you found their map and use its ability to track every movement of every inhabitant of the castle to pull off most of your pranks has nothing to do with it?"

The twins gulped. "How'd you know?" they asked in unison.

"Mage Sight, I can see it glowing in that one's pocket," Harry said, pointing at Twin 2. "Considering it's good as a family heirloom, I'd be well within my rights to demand you hand it over… but I won't. I'm sure you'll use it more and closer to its original purpose than I ever would."

The twins again bowed, this time genuinely which was even more awkward. "Our thanks, Son of Prongs," they intoned. Then they went off back to the Gryffindor Table.

"Did you just turn down a tracking device for everyone in the castle?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"Yes, because we'll be making our own. The spells are simple enough, you just need the power to tie them into Hogwarts' wards. And we all know I can do that," Harry said offhandedly.

The group nodded, and returned to their usual lunch conversation. After the meal ended, they went out to 'their' tree and got their homework for the weekend out of the way. That done, they all sat in a circle with Harry laying his hand in the center. "One by one, I want you to take my hand. I'll take us both into your mindscape, the magical representation of your mind. Once there, you can start to organize it and to build your defenses. I'm not expecting you to be locked down like Gringotts during a drill, but once you can keep out the average probe, I'll trust you with the REAL juicy information," Harry told them.

They all nodded, and Hermione was the first to take his hand. Harry focused his magic and surged it towards Hermione's brain. There was a rushing sensation despite sitting still, and then Harry and Hermione were standing in a library.

Harry looked around approvingly. "Very nice, Hermione. Your mind is very well-organized for someone new to Occlumency. You just need to sort out a few memories and get a better filing system and you'll have true eidetic memory. Now, what do you have in mind for defences?"

"How about clones of Madam Pince with rulers of death?" Herminone asked with a chuckle.

"Not bad. Add a laser glare and throw in bookmarks that explode on contact," Harry suggested. "Remember, every change you make will drain your magical core. Once you start feeling tired, try and wake up in your real body." With that final advice, Harry pulled himself out of her mindscape. In the real world, he set Herminone's hand down in her lap, while she appeared to be in the midst of REM sleep while sitting up.

Harry repeated the process for his other four friends. Daphne and Blaise had the best minds after Hermione, probably due to their strict, regimented upbringings. Neville's mind took the form of a massive greenhouse, while Ron appeared to be lost in a twisted, Escherian version of his family's home in Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry gave all of them pointers based on his own experience with Mind magic and then left them to do their thing. In the end, Harry was left sitting there while his friends all engaged in a form of magical meditation.

Harry pulled out a book on advanced Arithmancy and settled in to wait. About an hour later, his friends began to wake up. All looked exhausted, but had accomplished grins on their faces. "Welcome back. Next week, we'll work on how to enter your mindscape on your own. Now, I think you all could do with a nap before dinner."

Hermione yawned. "No arguments here. You weren't kidding, magically hacking your rain takes a lot of energy."

They all retreated to their respective Dormitory. Harry passed the time by talking to Tom in his room. At the dinner bell, Harry met up with his friends at Hermione's Table. They all ate heartily, Harry because he had a high metabolism and the others to replenish their magical cores. After dinner, Harry and the Slytherins explored the fourth floor. Then they went to bed.

The next day dawned bright and clear, with nary a breeze. Perfect flying conditions, Harry noted as he sat down to breakfast.

"Nervous?" Blaise asked as Harry ate some hash browns.

"Not really. This is something I'm genuinely good at," Harry answered.

"Professor Snape himself will be watching, so no need to worry about sabotage," Daphne reasoned reassuringly.

"Too bad. Might have made things more interesting," Harry joked.

"We'll be cheering you on, mate," Ron said with a manly slap to the back.

"Don't break your neck," Hermione warned imperiously.

"I'm sure you'll get on the team!" Neville said with a grin.

Harry frowned, noticing something about Neville's pocket. "Neville, may I see your wand?"

So great was the level of trust Neville had for Harry, the Hufflepuff didn't hesitate to hand it over. Harry glanced from the wand to Neville. "Neville, this wand is barely in tune with you. How you've gotten any spell out of it is beyond me. Why don't you have a wand that picked you?"

Neville blushed and looked down. "It's my dad's old wand. My Gran insisted I use it."

Harry and their other friends frowned. "It's high time your Gran learned that you're not Frank, you're Neville. And she should stop trying to force you to become him."

Neville nodded. "I know. But is there any way I could keep the wand? It makes me feel close to my dad when I use it."

Harry sighed. He molded his magic and wrapped the wand with it. Then he handed it back to Neville. "There. I installed a converter. It should answer to you like your chosen wand would have."

Daphne blinked. "One day, Harry, you'll stop surprising me with the impossible things you do."

"And on that day, I shall do six impossible things before breakfast just to startle you again," Harry said lightly.

Only Hermione got the reference.

The group made their way to the Quidditch stadium. The others went into the stands while Harry joined the hopefuls milling around on the pitch. Some had brought their own brooms. Most glanced at Harry warily, but none protested his presence among them.

Marcus Flint, an unfortunately featured fifth-year, was wearing Quidditch robes with the Captain's badge pinned to his breast. "Now, we'll be going through trials for each position. You are allowed to apply for more than one position. If your performance exceeds someone on the current team, you'll replace them and they'll be moved to Reserve. We have our Head of House in the stands, so act accordingly. Those without personal brooms must use provided school brooms."

Harry stood patiently through the Chaser, Beater, and Keeper trials. When the Captain called for Seekers, Harry stepped forward. Marcus eyed him but said nothing. Facing all four trying out for Seeker, Marcus said "I will release the Snitch for five minutes, five times. Whichever of you catches it the most, will go up against our current Seeker for a sixth go. Catch it then, you're on the team, otherwise you're Reserve. Now all of you, in the air!"

Harry caught the Snitch all five times. He did it within the first minute of its release each time, too. Harry distinctly heard cheering from his friends as Harry faced off against the current Slytherin Seeker. It came down to a neck-and-neck race, but Harry got the Snitch by dint of having no fear of breaking his neck flying into the stands at high speeds. Harry returned the Snitch to Flint, who shook his hand. "Welcome to the team, Potter," Marcus said with an ugly but sincere grin.

Harry got information on the practice schedule, two nights a week and one weekend morning. Nodding, Harry assured Flint he'd get his own broom and went to join his friends. They all gushed over his performance, making Harry blush. "Guys, come on. I'm a good flyer, what's the big deal?"

"The 'big deal', Mr. Potter, is you just demonstrated flying ability worthy of the International League," Snape said, appearing behind them. "Now, shall I escort you to our luncheon?"

Harry nodded and waved his friends goodbye as he followed Snape back to the castle and down into the dungeons. Snape whispered the password to the door of his quarters and led Harry in.

It was very dark and cozy; Snape seemed to decorate with texture rather than with color. There were thick carpets, rugs, and tapestries on the walls. Snape indicated Harry take a seat in a comfy plush chair, Snape taking a seat in one opposite, a fire going off to the side.

"Is HE here with us?" Snape asked first.

Harry unveiled Tom and placed him in his lap. "Hello, Severus. The life of a double agent seems to suit you," Tom drawled.

Snape grit his teeth. "You shouldn't have gone after family. That's the one rule the Death Eaters had."

"How was I to know you counted friends good as family? In any case, I do regret Lily's death. Such a talented witch, even for a muggleborn. I offered her the chance to stand aside, you know, but she made her choice."

Snape sighed. "Of course she did. Always so stubborn." Snape turned to face Harry. "It doesn't bother you, being tutored by your parents' murderer?"

"Voldemort murdered my parents. Tom is a hitchhiker I picked up that night. Whatever he might have started as, he's a changed man now," Harry defended himself and his friend.

"To my shame, yes. I see now how I misspent my youth and wasted decades on a pointless quest for power and revenge. I'll happily help you all stop my original self from returning," Tom said solemnly.

Snape blinked. "The Dark Lord on the side of the Light, even if only in spirit. It puts a chill in the bones. I may have just seen everything."

Harry chuckled even as Tom grumbled. "Now, there was the promise of food? All that flying worked up an appetite."

Snape snapped and a table laden with two plates, goblets, and cutlery appeared with the 'pop' of House Elf magic. Harry happily dug in, eating like an active preteen after a workout. Snape ate at his own sedate pace. When the Professor finally finished, he Vanished the table and summoned a tea service. When they both had full cups, Snape began to speak.

He talked of meeting Lily in a playground near their houses, of showing off their young magic to each other. He talked of their first ride to Hogwarts, so nervous and eager, and being accosted by one James Potter. He spoke of how LIly was sorted into Gryffindor and was the Hermione of their generation. How she kept their friendship alive for years despite repeated attempts by others to discourage them. Of how Lily was uncommonly kind, able to see the best in anyone, even or perhaps especially when they couldn't.

"And then there was the… incident. And we never spoke again, except for later that night when she told me we were done. She grew up, married your father, had you after, and the rest, as they say, is history," Snape finished, moistening his throat with some tea.

Harry nodded. "Thank you. It's always nice to learn about either of my parents." Harry paused. "If you weren't bound by your oath to Dumbledore and had to stay at Hogwarts, what would you be doing? Because forgive me for saying so, but you're not the best at teaching and you don't seem to want to be here."

Snape snorted. "I'd be an independent Potioneer, researching and brewing every day. But that dream is beyond me until either you graduate or the original Dark Lord is vanquished."

Harry and Tom shared a look. "That could happen this year, you know."

Snape sat up. "What do you mean?"

"There's a ritual we were planning to use on Samhain. To unite all the Horcruxes Voldemort made into Tom. If we could capture the original soul shard of Voldemort and add it to the ritual, we'd basically be making Tom the only version of Voldemort that exists. It's not a traditional vanquishing, but the effect is the same," Harry told his professor.

Snape paled and his eyes turned calculating. "Horcruxes? Plural?"

"I was foolish and afraid, laugh it up," Tom muttered.

"Five, not including Tom and the original Voldemort. They're all locked in a safe in my trunk," Harry explained.

Snape nodded. "I won't ask how you acquired them. But I must ask if you believe yourself capable of subduing the original shard of the Dark Lord."

Harry shrugged. "Should be simple enough. Just Stun Quirrell and drag him into the ritual circle."

Snape blinked. "Wait… you mean…"

"Voldemort is what Quirrell is hiding behind that turban," Harry stated.

Snape shook his head. "Albus, Albus, what were you thinking?"

"Probably that he could use the Philosopher's Stone as bait to draw him out and arrange me to be there so we could have our prophesized duel or something like that," Harry said while rolling his eyes.

"That DOES sound like him," Snape sighed. "All those lemon drops are addling his brain."

"Out of curiosity, is the actual Stone at the end of the obstacle course? Or is it hidden somewhere under Fidelius?" Harry asked.

"Far as I know, Flamel's genuine creation is at the end of the line," Snape said. "Why? Thinking of acquiring it for yourself?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd rather make my own. But I'd love the opportunity to study it. I have Mage Sight, you know, it must be beautiful."

Snape burst out laughing. "Rather make your own! You certainly belong in the house of ambition, Mr. Potter."

"I'll apprentice under Professor Dumbledore in Alchemy if he'll take me. Otherwise, I'll learn what I can from books and experiment from there," Harry said in all seriousness. Harry got a speculative grin. "On another note, how much would a working Flying Potion be worth?"

Snape got a serious cast to his face. "Millions. But no inventing outside my direct supervision, Mr. Potter! I'd say not at all, but then you'd do it without me to watch out for you."

"So how about we make this lunch a regular thing and experiment for the afternoon?" Harry asked eagerly.

Snape shared his grin. It was small but it was there. "Get your potion gear and be back in ten minutes."

Harry raced to his room, stuffing his cauldron and pack of standard ingredients in his bag, and returned to Snape's quarters at a sprint. Turns out the rooms were linked to Snape's office and his private stores. And snape had his own potion lab.

They spent an hour and a half roughing out the recipe to Harry's Flying Potion. Then another three hours brewing it, before leaving it to cool for another hour. When it had reached room temperature, Harry and Snape extracted a vial with anxious excitement.

"How do we test it?" Harry asked.

"Standard Potioneers use House Elves. They have similar physiology and their magic doesn't interfere with most reactions," Snape said. "Flippy!" he barked, and a small, leathery-skinned humanoid with bat-like ears and huge eyes appeared.

"Professor Snape call for Flippy," he said in his squeaky voice.

Snape held out the vial of potion. "Drink this."

Flippy obeyed without comment, drinking the watery blue-green fluid like that.

A few seconds passed without any effect, and then Flippy floated into the air.

"Eureka!" Harry exclaimed. "Flippy, try to fly!"

The elf obeyed the command, zooming around the room like Superman.

Snape managed to contain his enthusiasm. "Can you stay on the ground if you wanted to?"

Flippy attempted it. "Flippy cannot, Professor Snape. Flippy keeps lifting up."

"So the effect refused to dissipate on conscious command," Snape noted in a journal.

"The dose was designed for an hour of continuous flight anyway. We need to get him outdoors where we can test his speed," Harry insisted.

At that moment, the dinner bell went off.

"I will handle that, you will go to dinner and spend the evening with your merry band," Snape ordered.

Harry pouted. "Fine. But don't submit this to the Ministry without my name on it. We're splitting this one 50/50."

Snape paused. "My contribution was minor. Are you sure you want to share the patent with me?"

"Of course, it's only fair. I'd add Tom for teaching me but he legally doesn't exist," Harry said. "So long, Professor Snape! I had fun today!"

Snape shook his head as the boy ran off. "Looks like Potter, acts like Evans. I'll have to get used to that."

Harry got to dinner to find his friends at the Hufflepuff Table. He went over and was eagerly greeted. "Have you been with Professor Snape all day?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it was great. We talked about my mum and then Tom and then the Philosopher's Stone and then somehow we ended up inventing a potion together!" Harry said in a rush.

Daphne whistled. "You INVENTED a potion? Did it work?"

"The test elf didn't explode or fall over dead. And he exhibited the desired effect," Harry said around a mouthful.

"What kind of potion?" Blalise wondered.

Harry looked around for eavesdroppers before leaning in to whisper "A Flying Potion! One sip and like you've grown invisible wings. Might have to tweak the dosage to get the time limit worked out, but still! Imagine Quidditch without brooms!"

Ron gawked. "That's… blimey, that's brilliant! It could revolutionize travel, no more butt cramps from long rides on a broom. And the amount of people who'd do it for fun!"

Neville gulped. "Count me out. But great job, Harry."

Harry grinned after a bite. "I wasn't kidding when I said I'd found Potter's Potions. The potions I invent while I'm in school will get me the seed money to research how to mass-produce potions. I'm thinking I should take inspiration from the Philosopher's Stone. It produces a potion, presumably without limit. Why not use Alchemy to make stones for other potions?"

"Um, because Alchemy is widely considered the most difficult branch of magic, essentially combining Potions, Transfiguration, and Arithmancy?" Hermione pointed out.

"Sounds like a challenge!" Harry said gleefully.

His friends all groaned at his dauntless enthusiasm.

"Congrats on making Seeker, by the way," Blaise said. "When are you ordering your broom?"

"I'll send the order with my letter home on Monday," Harry answered.

"You getting the Nimbus 2000?" Daphne asked eagerly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Actually, in the interest of fairness, I'm getting 28 Nimbus 1000s, one for each member of each team. Play shouldn't be determined by broom quality, best if everyone rides the same quality broom. And really, how much better can the 2000 be than the 1000?"

Ron's jaw dropped. "Mate… how rich ARE you?"

"I start out with 5000 Galleons in my Trust Vault to burn each year. Might as well spend every Knut, right?" Harry said with a shrug. "Why, you want a broom for Christmas, or Yule, whichever your family celebrates?"

Ron made a hiccup like sound before shaking his head. "No, no thanks, you can get me one next year," he said faintly.

They spent the rest of dinner discussing Quidditch, and Harry, Daphne, and Blaise went off to explore the fifth floor afterward. Harry noted the entrance to the Prefects' Bathroom, and figured it might be worth campaigning for Prefect or Quidditch Captain just to get in there. Sunday was spent reading in the Library, much like they'd done last week. Harry got in touch with Professor Snape at dinner, who confirmed that Flippy had stopped flying after an hour on the dot, and Snape was making preparations to send the recipe, a sample, and their notes to the Ministry of Magic Patent Office, Potions Division for them to run their own experiments. Harry shook his co-creator's hand and then went back to his friends.

The third week of term passed much like the first two had for Harry, with the addition of Quidditch practice certain evenings in place of his exploring. Harry reminded his friends about the Orator ritual, but they all decided against it since they'd yet to find a proper ritual room in the school. And so the Autumn Equinox, or Mabon as the ancients had called it, went by unutilized.

The month of October was soon upon them, bringing rain and gloomy skies. Hagrid began to grow pumpkins in his garden in preparation of the Halloween Feast. On the first of the month, Harry made an intriguing discovery during his evening explorations. Daphne and Blaise paused as Harry stared at a wall opposite a tapestry of trolls doing ballets. "Curiouser and curiouser… walk by three times… adapt to the wishes of the activator… a-ha! It's the Room of Requirement!"

"The what?" his friends asked.

"Also known as the Come and Go Room or the Room of Lost Things. It's formed by the ley line nexus that Hogwarts is built on. You want a toilet, you get a toilet. You want an opera hall, you get an opera hall. It can adjust itself to fit massive dimensions, and it can summon anything that's within the bounds of Hogwarts. Every book, every piece of furniture, you name it. They say Ravenclaw's lost diadem was once hidden in here," Harry explained, not mentioning that he'd poofed said diadem into his trunk over the summer along with the other Horcruxes.

Daphne got a slow grin. "Hello, new secret hideout."

"We can hang out here instead of the Library," Blaise postulated.

Harry nodded and led them away, making note of its location for later.

That Saturday, Harry put the finishing touches on an improved Wolfsbane Potion that would prevent the transformation in the first place. Still not a cure, but better than turning into a rabid wolf-like creature once a month. It had taken four weeks to brew, needing to absorb the moonlight of each phase of the moon. Once Harry corked a vial, Snape handed him the October issue of _European Potions_. Their Flying Potion was the cover article.

"You're beginning to make a name for yourself beyond just the Boy-Who-Lived. You're now also hailed as a potions prodigy unlike any seen before," Snape said with a dry smile. The man had become more honest with his emotions around Harry, letting his guard down.

Harry shrugged. "I think of it as I'm just good at cooking, and potionmaking is just a more exotic form of cooking."

Tom would have stuck out his tongue if he could. "Comparing potions to dishes, pah!"

"Well, hope the Patent Office knows a werewolf willing to test this," Harry said, shaking the vial of vaporous grey potion.

"They'll go through the list of registered werewolves and find one who's willing," Snape said, a hint of distaste on his face.

"Thinking of the time my Dad sicced Lupin on you?" Harry asked.

Snape jerked. "How do you know about that?"

"Tom used to randomly scan your memories, remember? Besides, would you believe I found the Resurrection Stone and talk to my parents every night?" Harry asked straight-faced.

Snape paled. "Merlin's balls, you're telling the truth. How?"

"One of Voldemort's Horcruxes was on the ring it was set in. Was a bit hard to separate the two. He just thought it was a Gaunt family ring, had no idea what it was," Harry answered.

"I only ever really cared about the wand out of the Hallows," Tom spoke up.

Snape gulped. "I don't suppose you know the location of the other Hallows, do you?"

"Sure. Dumbledore has the Elder Wand. And if he can die undefeated, its curse will be broken. And he's holding onto my family's invisibility cloak, which happens to be THE Cloak," Harry told Snape.

Snape frowned. "Always knew there was something off about that cloak. And Albus makes a lot of sense. I suppose he won it from Grindelwald?"

"Talk about a lover's spat gone wrong," Harry joked.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear an 11-year-old accuse Albus Dumbledore of sleeping with his worst enemy. Off to dinner, little hellion," Snape instructed.

Harry trotted up to the Great Hall, where he found his friends sitting at the Slytherin Table. Harry was on his way over to sit with them, when Draco Malfoy stood up and walked over towards him with a confrontational air about him. Harry noted the copy of _European Potions_ in the boy's hand and guessed the problem.

"No, it's not a joke. Yes, I really helped invent it. No, you may not join us at our weekly sessions. No, I'm not trying to steal your godfather from you. Yes, I'll tutor you if you really want me to. Does that cover everything?" Harry said preemptively as the blond reached him.

Malfoy turned an interesting color of puce. "How?" he demanded in a low voice. "How are you already so far ahead of the rest of us? You're the same age as me!"

"Occlumency-assisted memory and a strict, intensive training regime with a tutor. That's really all I can say. I'm not some supergenius that just absorbed all this information. I worked hard to get to where I am today. If you can't stand how far above you I am, focus on raising yourself up to my level rather than trying to tear me down to yours. You might succeed at the first, but you never will at the second," Harry told him. "Now, your King asks you to step aside."

Draco seemed to swallow his tongue before standing away from Harry's path. Harry nodded and moved to join his friends.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked him as she handed him a plate loaded with what he would have picked. She was getting to know him rather well.

"He's pissed that I've invented a potion that's in an international magazine in particular, and at my freakish supernatural talent in general," Harry said, digging in.

"The Flying Potion made a magazine? Congratulations!" Hermione wished him.

"Thanks. As Snape put it, I'm starting to make my own name instead of that dumb title the papers gave after you-know-what," Harry sighed.

Ron shuddered. "I honestly was a bit jealous of your fame when we first met. But people keep staring at me and asking me about Pettigrew. It's ruddy annoying, is what it is."

"Amen, brother," Harry said, giving Ron a high-five.

Neville looked happy. His marks had improved ever since Harry had 'fixed' his wand and between his school performance and his group of friends, he was really coming out of his shell and growing in confidence. "So, we're playing with the Room of Requirement tomorrow?"

Harry nodded. "That's the plan. Should keep us entertained for the day. And not even the twins will be able to find us. The Room wasn't on the Marauder's Map when it was made."

"Our own secret base, to plot how we're going to take over the school! Harry's already conquered Slytherin, you lot need to get to work on your own Houses," Daphne said imperiously.

"Of course he has," Hermione groaned.

They finished off their dinner and the Slytherins set about mapping out where all the secret tunnels and entrances they'd found on their first survey led. They should be ready to make their own map (Harry doing the bulk of the magic) by Christmas.

October passed by as school always does, in a blur of work and fun and discovery. Harry maintained a firm leash on Slytherin, randomly flooding the Common Room with his magic to remind them all of who was top dog. Before he knew it, it was Halloween morning.

Harry got up at the crack of dawn and, cloaking himself with Invisibility, Inaudibility, and other magics to mask the other senses, set about on his quest. He snuck through the castle, not alerting anyone, not even a portrait or ghost. Harry made it to the entrance to Quirrell's quarters, noting a variety of borderline-illegal booby traps cast on it. Rolling his eyes, Harry poofed past the door into the room beyond. He made in through the drab quarters to the bedroom, and pulled out an orb of purest clear crystal, enchanted specifically for Soul magic. Then, sneaking up, beside the slumbering professor, Harry used his magic to gently remove the slumbering Voldemort from the back of Quirrell's head and store the soul shard in the orb. That done, Harry poofed back to his room.

Harry shook the orb filled with black smoke, vaguely hearing an enraged screech from inside. "Here's the prime, Tom. In a few hours, it'll be reunited with you and and all the other bits of your soul you sheared off. Excited?"

Tom looked to the side. "What happens if I turn back into who I was?"

"Then I'll rehabilitate you all over again," Harry said simply. "I won't rest until you're a good person, Tom."

"You'll be sleepless for decades, then," Tom snarked, but he was secretly comforted.

Harry got through Charms and Transfiguration that morning, even though his mind was elsewhere. He had lunch with his friends and told them he had to do something secret in the Room of Requirement that afternoon. Being on the Quidditch team, he was exempt from Flying lessons. They all were confused, but they trusted him and agreed to not go looking for him. Harry traded glances with Snape and Dumbledore, sending them mental probes letting them know what he was going to do. Both gave him nods.

After lunch, Harry gathered the Horcruxes into his bag and made for the seventh-floor corridor. We walked past the blank wall three times, thinking about how he needed a ritual space. The door appeared and Harry walked into a stone chamber blank but for a Star of David carved into the center of the floor, which happened to be the symbol Harry had intended to use. That part done, Harry ritually cleansed himself and the Horcruxes, purifying them of any magical exhaust or residue. Then he placed the five Horcruxes and the orb containing Voldemort in the empty triangles of the Star of David, placing Tom's skull in the center hexagon. Rolling up his sleeves, Harry got to work.

Harry called on Death, on the soul, on Magic itself, imploring them to right the wrong that a young boy named Tom Riddle had done against the natural order. A wind began to swirl throughout the room, and Harry continued to chant. The Star began to glow with pure white light, and Harry closed his eyes even as he kept chanting, his voice imbued with his magic.

There was a hollow boom, like a massive bubble being popped, and then the light vanished. Harry opened his eyes. The Horcruxes were now cleansed of the soul shards, leaving their original magic intact. The orb was empty of smoke as well. All that remained was Tom, who glowed especially bright to Harry's sight.

"Tom? How do you feel?" Harry asked with trepidation.

"Like I suffered a relapse after years of therapy. My head's so full of… darkness. I never noticed how polluted my mind was until you showed me purity. Can you do your thing and just purge all this negativity from me? Like the fairy did to your family?" Tom asked.

Harry shrugged. He'd been determined not to use a negativity purge on Tom, feeling it was somehow cheating, but if the man requested it himself… Harry flicked his wand in Tom's direction. "Better?"

"Much! I feel fresh as a daisy now," Tom said in a cheery voice. "You might have overdone it, by the way. Now I feel like I'm stuck in a permanent Cheering Charm."

"I didn't make it permanent like Gadzooks did with the Dursleys. You'll be back to your grouchy self this time tomorrow." Harry said with a grin.

"Well, then let's consider this all one giant success. No more Horcruxes, no original shade lingering. Just me, in the skull, one whole soul. And it's safe to say I'm no longer Voldemort. I'm Tom."

Harry grinned. "So I vanquished you after all. Probably not how anyone was expecting, killing you with kindness. But still, the prophecy should be fulfilled by now."

"You never know, we never heard the whole thing," Tom pointed out.

"Details," Harry waved off. Thinking of the day he'd got Gadzooks, Harry waved his wand and a phoenix came out. Wondering what it said about him that he shared a Patronus with Dumbledore, Harry told the avian "The ritual was a success. Voldemort is no more. Now there's just Tom." Then it flew off through the school towards Dumbledore.

"Can you pick me up, please? This floor is cold," Tom requested.

Harry took the skull and plopped him on his shoulder.

The Halloween Feast was a spectacle. Everyone was sitting at their own Table for once, but the chance to not talk with friends was easily swayed by the great food and even greater dessert and decorations. Dumbledore supervised it all with a jubilant grin. Quirrell was absent, and for all Harry knew he'd fled the castle when he'd woken up unpossessed. Harry helped himself to a third helping of treacle tart, when the doors burst open.

Quirrell, still wearing his turban, came charging in and up to the Head Table. "Troll… in the dungeon… thought you ought to know…" he said before collapsing in a dead faint.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorting out the memories. They were planning a distraction tonight to go for the Stone. Guess he went through with it even without his Lord telling him to," Tom mused even as the Great Hall exploded with noise.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore roared, proving he had quite the set of pipes on him despite his age. "Everyone will please not panic. Now, all students shall remain in the Great Hall. Teachers will follow me towards the dungeons. Thank you." With that, Dumbledore led the Professors out the great doors, locking them behind them. Harry noted that Quirrell had vanished from where he'd fallen.

Harry tapped his foot, knowing he shouldn't do anything but… "Screw it. Cover for me," Harry told Daphne and Blaise. Then he slipped under the table and poofed to the third-floor corridor.

Harry held his want at the ready, and almost spelled Snape when he appeared from behind a tapestry. "Mr. Potter! What do you think you're doing here? How did you even get here?"

"I think I'm guarding the Stone from Quirrell, because even a First Year could get past the traps based from what I've seen. And I got here with a form of teleportation that's distinct from Apparition and thus immune to anti-Apparition wards," Harry answered honestly.

Snape grit his teeth. "I'd tell you to return, but know you'd simply ignore me. Very well, stand guard. Quirinus should be here any moment."

Speak of the devil, Quirrell appeared from around the corner. He ground to a halt when he saw Snape and Harry. "S-s-severus. P-p-potter. What a p-p-pleasant surprise."

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned. "For the love of Merlin and all the gods, drop the stutter! It's not fooling anyone!"

"I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Potter on that front," Snape drawled threateningly.

Quirrell's face closed off. "So. I'll have to kill you both to get to the Stone. No matter. My master taught me much."

"But he's gone now, isn't he? Why do you think that is?" Harry asked innocently.

Quirrell's eyes flashed. "You! What have you done to the Dark Lord?"

"The Dark Lord is no more. Now there's just a skull named Tom," Harry said, and struck before Quirrell could answer.

In the space of a second, he was hit with a Stupefy, an Incarcerous, and a Levicorpus. He dangled upside down, bound by heavy ropes, sleeping like the dead.

Snape blinked. "If you ever feel like going into dueling, Mr. Potter, I'd talk to Professor Flitwick. I'll give you a recommendation myself."

"Why thank you, Professor. Now, I better get back to the Great Hall. You can take credit for this one. Though if Dumbledore asks, tell him I'd love to just spend a minute with the Stone as a reward, if he'd be so kind," Harry said, before vanishing in a poof of smoke.

Harry climbed back out from under the Slytherin Table and turned to his incredulous classmates. "What?"

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**And on with the show.**

* * *

Daphne and Blaise spread the news that Harry could teleport inside Hogwarts grounds to his other friends by breakfast the morning of November 1st. Harry had a lot of explaining to do.

"Apparition isn't possible inside Hogwarts grounds," Hermione insisted for the fourth time.

"It's not Apparition. I call it poofing. Rather than create a create a personal wormhole, I create a superposition of space," Harry said, his words flying over all but Hermione's head.

"Like quantum entanglement?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Pretty much. I link where I am to where I want to be and then just… switch. I can't describe it any better than that," Harry said helplessly.

"What I want to know is where you went!" Neville spoke up.

Harry shrugged. "I went to the third-floor corridor to head off Quirrell from stealing the Stone. Snape was there too, but I did most of the work, but then I got in a cheap shot on him."

Daphne shook her head. "You took down a grown wizard in a duel. Why am I not surprised? Now who's teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts for the rest of the year?"

"Ask Dumbledore, he seems to be making an announcement this morning," Harry said as their Headmaster came to his feet.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Hogwarts, I regret to inform you that, in a foolish mistake, Professor Quirrell has fallen prey to the defences around the forbidden third-floor corridor. While not dead, he has been sent to an institution where he may enjoy what remains of his life with the level of care he deserves. Until such time as a new Professor can be hired, I will be personally taking on the burden of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Thank you," the man said with a secret grin the whole while.

"Why do I have the feeling he meant Azkaban and not St. Mungo's?" Ron muttered in the aftermath of Dumbledore's speech.

"He'll get a trial first, at least, but breaking into Gringotts is a serious crime," Harry said lightly.

"I can't believe it was Quirrell the whole time and you didn't bother to tell us!" Blaise huffed.

"Well, your Occlumency wasn't up to snuff yet. Now that he's out of the castle, I don't have to worry about him reading your thoughts anymore," Harry defended himself. "Speaking of, same time this afternoon?"

His friends all nodded and finished their breakfasts.

That afternoon, Harry went on a tour of his friends' mindscapes. Hermione's library was fully indexed and protected by an army of Madam Pince. Daphne had a palace of ice with reflective hallways to confuse and snow golems ready to crush any intruder. Blaise had picked a museum for his mind, with burly security guards armed with wands and hidden passageways to guard the real important memories. Neville's greenhouse was in beautiful bloom, the whole thing laced with creepers of Devil's Snare set to attack anyone who tread on the plants. And Ron had gotten his family's home, the Burrow, to look normal, and had made a copy of his mother in a rage to scare off invaders.

"Not bad, not bad at all. I think I can tell you the major stuff, now," Harry said brightly.

"What's the MAJOR stuff?" Hermione asked with trepidation.

"You know how I said how Tom lives in my head? Well, I lied. I moved him into a vessel. And I recently undid all the dark rituals that mangled his soul, so he's ripe and ready for resurrection as one of the good guys," Harry said, before unveiling Tom. "Say hello, Tom."

"No wise cracks, children. I'm well aware the wizard with a talking skull is a cliche," Tom said in a bored tone.

Daphne's eyes were wide. "The Dark Lord is talking to me," she whispered to herself.

"Correction, I'm not the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord is the persona I crafted in my madness to motivate the Pureblood elite into joining me in my campaign for wizarding domination over muggles. Now I'm just Tom, a wizard trapped in a skull who feels an annoying attachment to the green-eyed brat here," Tom told the Greengrass heiress.

Ron was pale as a ghost. "You're You-Know-Who?"

"Did I not just explain this?" Tom asked, aggrieved.

"I take it the skull is unbreakable?" Neville asked, an odd look in his eyes.

"I see anger… and loss. My Death Eaters did something to your family after my demise. Whatever it is, know that it wasn't on my order. I was in pieces at the time, you see," Tom said to Neville.

Neville's fists went white-knuckled. "Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Jr. They used the Cruciatus on my parents for hours, torturing them for information they didn't have about your whereabouts. They're in the Janus Thickey ward, now."

Harry's mind raced. "Wait… your parents are still alive? They're just brain damaged?"

"It's not 'just', Harry. They don't even recognize me. They're like living ghosts," Neville said hotly, tears coming to his eyes.

"Well, now I know what potion I'll be working on with Snape tomorrow! Should I just go for countering the Cruciatus or a general cure-all of the brain?" Harry wondered, pulling out a notebook and scribbling furiously with a self-inking quill.

Neville blinked. "Wait… Harry, you're not actually going to…"

"If I have my way, you'll be celebrating Christmas with your parents, Neville," Harry said, determined. "Let's just go for an anti-Cruiciatus Potion, I can go for the cure-all later. Obviously we'll need a scar remover to get rid of the tissue build-up caused by overusing the curse. We'll have to account for the blood-brain barrier… toxicity of the ingredients interacting with the grey matter…" Harry trailed off, writing like a madman.

Ron patted Neville on the shoulder. "What can I say, mate? He's Harry Potter. He gets things done."

Harry indeed produced a prototype of Cruciatus Cure the next afternoon. Harry tried not to think too hard about how they'd test it out on some poor elf at the Patent Office. Some sacrifices must be made for progress. Snape didn't ask what inspired the sudden interest, but he had a knowing look in his eyes.

The next week passed by like any other, and the next Saturday was the date of Harry's first Quidditch match. Daphne and Blaise were decked out in full Slytherin regalia, Hermione and Neville had gotten little Slytherin flag, and even Ron managed to give Harry a thumbs-up despite rooting directly against him on principle. Harry had his breakfast, and then walked down to the Quidditch stadium to the Slytherin Locker Room. Harry got changed into the Quidditch robes that had to be specially made for his size, and grabbed one of the Nimbus 1000s he'd ordered from the team broom closet. Dumbledore and Madam Hooch had ordered the new broom be kept secret, so naturally the whole school knew within a week. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, had personally insisted on shaking Harry's hand in thanks for evening out the broom quality of the teams and leaving the game's outcome down to skill.

The other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team filed in, Harry having been first. Harry got quite a few more glimpses of male flesh than he'd been prepared for; apparently, most didn't wear underpants beneath their leggings. Blinking away the sight of what he might grow into once puberty got a hold of him, Harry sat down and listened to Flint's game plan.

"Beaters, get Wood out early. Take out the keeper, our Chasers will have free reign. Keeper, do your damn job. And Seeker, I'd prefer you wait until we have a lead, but go for the Snitch as soon as you see it; can't risk theirs getting the jump on you. For Slytherin!"

"For Slytherin!" they echoed.

At the sound of a small bell, they left the Locker Room and strolled out onto the pitch. Harry was hit by a wave of noise as all four Houses cheered as the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams came on the field. Madam Hooch was waiting in the middle, the chest of the four balls at her feet. "Now I want a nice clean game from all of you," she stated as Flint and Wood shook hands. She kicked the chest and the bludgers and Snitch were released.

"The bludgers are released, followed by the Golden Snitch. Remember, the Snitch is worth 150 points. The Seeker who catches the Snitch ends the game," commented Lee Jordan, the Weasley twins' friend, from the Staff Box.

On Hooch's whistled, they all mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air. "The players take their positions. The Quaffle is released… and the game begins! Whoa, all eyes are on Slytherin Seeker Harry Potter as he dives right in front of the Chasers. Is this some tactic to distract or… I don't believe it! Harry Potter has caught the Snitch within the first ten seconds! This is a world record, folks! The Boy-Who-Lived? More like the Boy-Who-Sought!" Jordan screamed into the microphone as Harry held his hand aloft, going for a lap of the stands so everyone could see the golden wings sticking out of his fist.

Marcus looked equally put out and impressed as they filed back into the Locker Room. "How the hell did you pull that off, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "You said to go for it as soon as I saw it. I never lost track of it once it was released," Harry answered.

"Well, from now on, wait at least 15 minutes so the rest of us have a chance to playl," Flint told him with a grin to soften his words. "All right, everyone, thank Potter for us getting the fastest win in Hogwarts history. I expect to see you all at practice on Tuesday. Enjoy your weekends!"

Harry got changed back into his school robes and slipped into the crowd of exiting students. He made it to Daphne and Blaise's sides before he was recognized. "Potter!" shouted the students nearest him. Before Harry knew what was happening, he was raised up and carried on the shoulders of some fourth- and fifth-years. "Three cheers for the greatest Seeker in the world!" called the third-year leading the moshpit. "Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip…"

"Okay!" Harry said, slipping like an eel out of their hands and back to the ground. "I appreciate the sentiment but please don't touch me without permission. Now, how about I slip to the Kitchens and Slytherin can have a nice lunch party?"

The word soon spread among the Slytherins and shortly afterward, Harry, Daphne, and Blaise found themselves in front of a portrait of a bowl of fruit. Harry reached up to tickle the pear, which morphed into a door knob. Opening the portrait, Harry and his friends stepped into the well-organized chaos of House Elves cooking.

"Master Harry!" squeaked an elderly old she-elf. She hobbled over to them.

Harry grinned and gave her a hug. "Hi, Mimzy. Nice to see you again." She had apparently been his grandparents' elf who'd gone to Hogwarts after their and James' death. She hadn't known Harry had survived, she said, or otherwise she well could have raised him. Harry could only imagine how the presence of the House Elf would have gone over with the Dursleys pre-Gadzooks. A magical non-human, even one that did all the chores, would have been physically thrown out the house.

"What can Mimzy do for young Master Harry?" the elf asked, eyes bright in anticipation of an order.

"Can you arrange for a few party platters be sent to the Slytherin Common Room, please? Oh, and dig out the butterbeer?"

"Of course, of course!" Mimzy said. She clapped her hands and a contingent of elves stopped what they were doing to set on this new task. She wasn't Head Elf, but she carried some authority by dint of her age.

"Thanks, Mimzy. And have you considered my offer?' Harry asked.

Mimizy patted Harry's cheek. "Mimizy is not much longer for this world. Mimzy can't handle a new family. But Mimzy has a grandson with a bad family. If Master Harry could somehow free him, Dobby could look after the Dursleys."

Harry nodded. "Who owns him?"

"The Malfoys," Mimzy said solemnly.

Harry blinked. "Oh. Well, that should be simple enough."

"How exactly should that be simple?" Daphne asked as they left the Kitchens towards the Common Room.

"Off the top of my head, Aging Potion and impersonating Tom and ordering Lucius Malfoy to hand over his elf," Harry said.

Blaise blinked. "That actually might work. But when would you get the chance to meet Lucius?"

"Blaise, I'm Slytherin's King. And the Boy-Who-Lived. Of course I'm getting an invite to the Malfoy Yule Ball," Harry said with confidence.

They reached the Common Room and found the party already in swing. Someone had gotten out a Wizarding Wireless and music was playing while people munched on the food, drank the butterbeer, talked, and even danced. Harry and his friends were treated as guests of honor, the other two for the sheer fact they were his friends. Harry enjoyed the next few hours, until they all canceled the party to go to dinner at the bell.

"You're sure butterbeer is non-alcoholic? Because I'm pretty sure I'm buzzed," Harry asked his friends with a dopey grin as they sat down at the Slytherin Table.

"It's weaker than muggle beer, but chug ten in a row like you did and even butterbeer has a kick," Daphne said with a chuckle.

"You got butterbeer? How?" Ron asked as he sat down.

"We asked the House Elves nicely," Harry said, blinking when he saw two of Ron. 'Okay, I think I just learned I'm a lightweight."

"No duh, you're barely over a hundred pounds," Hermione sniffed. "Next you'll be sneaking Ogden's Firewhiskey into the school."

"I'll save that for seventh-year," Harry said before biting his chicken. "I love chicken, chicken is the BEST."

Neville looked from Harry to Blaise and Daphne. "Inebriation aside, I'm guessing you had a fun party?"

"It was quite pleasant. Odd having it in the middle of the day, though. Harry, let the next game last longer," Daphne ordered.

"Already promised Flint," Harry slurred.

"Snape incoming," Blaise hissed as their professor walked toward them. He took one look at Harry and chuckled.

"Your father had a weakness for butterbeer too, Potter. Make sure from now on if you overindulge to not leave the Common Room or make it to the Infirmary.

"Didn't hit me till we hit the Great Hall, Sev," Harry protested.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Ms. Greengrass, Mr. Zabini, please escort Mr. Potter back to his room."

"Yes, Professor," his students chorused, hiking arms under Harry's shoulders and lifting him to his feet.

"I can walk! Not in a straight line, but I can walk," Harry complained.

"Sure you can," Daphne said, grunting with effort as Harry's weight came down on her as they left the Great Hall.

"I saw cocks today. Big, hairy cocks," Harry told them conversationally.

Blaise almost tripped. "I'm sorry?" he said hesitantly, not sure what to make of that.

"I think I like boys a little. Not as much as girls, but still. Draco's pretty. He's no Cho Chang, but he's pretty," Harry said dreamily.

"Any man or woman would be lucky to have you," Daphne told him as they reached the Common Room.

"Thanks, Daphne. You're a good friend. I'll remember you when I make it to the top," Harry said, kissing her cheek sloppily.

"You're halfway there already, mate," Blaise said as he tried to open Harry's door.

"The password is in Parseltongue. I've got it," Tom spoke up invisibly. There was a series of hisses and the door unlocked.

Daphne and Blaise heaved Harry onto his bed. He was snoring in seconds.

"Mental note, never take Harry to a bar when we grow up," Daphne said, wiping her cheek.

"Wish we'd taken some pictures for blackmail," Blaise grinned.

The next morning, Harry woke with a splitting headache and needing to pee like a racehorse. He rushed to the bathroom and relieved his bladder before it exploded or poisoned his kidneys. He drank several cups worth of water straight from the faucet, helping to combat his dehydrated state. Luckily, he didn't vomit. Harry changed into fresh robes in his room, and darkly asked Tom "Enjoy the show last night?"

"It was quite amusing to watch the antics of a blitzed 11-year-old. You admitted to bisexuality and planted one on the Greengrass girl," Tom said with sadistic glee.

"Don't remind me. I can't believe I admitted I had a crush on Draco," Harry groaned.

"What is that about? Because you've been treating him pretty cold the whole year," Tom asked.

"I can't help it; I see a bad boy, I think I can change him. Worked with you, didn't it?" Harry said, tapping Tom on the top of his skull.

"Yes, but given I'm old enough to be your grandfather and I lack a corporeal form, I'm pretty sure there's zero chance of romance between us," Tom said dryly.

Harry almost threw up in his mouth. "Don't even joke about that. Even when I give you back a body, that would be too weird. You're like my demented uncle or something, not my soulmate."

"I live to make you uncomfortable," Tom said airily.

Harry dragged himself to breakfast and went for the greasiest foods he could find.

"Good morning!" Daphne chimed loudly and directly in his ear, making Harry jump and then moan.

"Hell is filled… with people like you," Harry hissed at his female friend, his head pounding.

"At least you learned to take it easy on the butterbeer," Blaise offered as he sat beside Harry at the Gryffindor Table. "Why'd you choose this table this morning?"

"The Gryffindors have the juiciest sausages," Harry said to explain himself. "And you, random seventh-year, I'm aware that sounded dirty. Please do not comment on it."

The girl covered her mouth to hide her laughter, sliding a few spaces away to give them privacy.

Ron sat down opposite Harry, with Hermione and Neville taking places at his sides. "He say anything interesting on the way back to your Common Room?" the Weasley asked before loading his plate.

"The conversation turned… homoerotic," Blaise said delicately.

"Apparently, the Quidditch teams all play commando. And Harry here thinks Draco is pretty," Daphne said with a wicked grin.

Neville choked on a gulp of pumpkin juice.

Harry hung his head. "Must we really hash out my drunken ramblings? I would have said Mrs. Norris was pretty with that amount of alcohol."

"But you didn't, you said it was MALFOY," Ron said like it was a crime against nature. "I mean, sure, he looks girly, but you're actually attracted to him?"

Harry rose a challenging brow. "Yes, I am. The same way I find half the class aesthetically pleasing in one way or another. You can admire the portrait without wanting to buy it, you know. I had a crush on all of you before you guys settled into roles as my pseudo-siblings."

Hermione blushed. "How flattering. Now, can we please discuss something else besides Harry's love interests?"

Professor Dumbledore gave a light cough, drawing their attention to his presence behind them. "Pardon me, my students. I was wondering if I could borrow Harry for the morning?"

Harry scarfed down the last few bites of his breakfast and stood up. "Consider me borrowed," he said brightly. Harry was quite interested to see what Dumbledore wanted with him and/or Tom. "I'll see you guys at the usual spot when I'm done, okay?" he told them. Given it was Sunday, he of course meant the Room of Requirement.

Harry followed Dumbledore through a number of secret passageways he was proud to say he'd been aware of to get to the seventh floor almost unseen by other students. With a muttered "Licorice Wand," Dumbledore led Harry past the gargoyle and up to his office.

Harry paused when he saw another man already waiting in the office. One look at him and it was clear that his whole body was being sustained by magic: death clung to him like a wraith, eagerly waiting for that golden glow suffusing every cell to vanish and let the man be claimed by the Veil. And he was holding a red stone in his hand that glowed like a star to Harry's vision. The young wizard immediately sunk into a bow. "It's an honor, Mr. Flamel."

"Albus, you said you wouldn 't warn him," Nicholas Flamel, one of two 600+ year old humans in the world, said to his former apprentice chidingly.

"I did not say a word, Nicholas. Among other gifts, Harry has the benefit of Mage Sight. He must have seen something about you that tipped him off," Dumbledore said with a grin.

Harry took a seat before Dumbledore, trying not to freak out that Flamel took the chair adjacent.

"Now, Harry. I believe that you told Severus that in repayment for defending the Stone, you would appreciate the opportunity to study it. I believe you also told him that rather than desiring the Stone for yourself, you'd rather make one yourself," Dumbledore said while unwrapping a lemon drop and popping it in his mouth.

Harry nodded. "I'd love just a minute with it, I'd learn so much about its makeup and magic with my senses. And of course I'd rather make my own. I'm not going to steal Mr. Flamel's."

Nicholas chuckled. "Such honest drive. You remind me of myself, young Harry, a long, LONG time ago." Flamel placed the Stone on the table in front of Harry. "Learn what you can, Mr. Potter."

Harry reverently took the Philosopher's Stone in his hand. He twirled it in his hands, smelled it, even licked it. "Dragon blood as the main ingredient, stewed in a golden cauldron for seven months with other ingredients and constant stirring and enchantments cast on the liquid. And then you somehow condensed and crystallized it with carbon into a diamond-like structure. Just touch it to metal and it transmutes, just dunk it in water and it produces the Elixir. Why not add a password or activation phrase?"

"After decades of pursuit, I just wanted the damn thing to work at all, let alone adding special features. I'm very impressed, young Harry. I'd heard you were something of a Potioneer from a magazine last month, combined with your Mage Sight you'd make for an excellent Alchemist," Nicholas Flamel said, taking back the Stone when Harry handed it over.

Harry considered showing off and said "Of course, now that I've seen it, I can just Conjure a copy," Harry said, flicking his wand and doing just that.

Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore both blinked. Then they both took turns examining Harry's copy of the Stone. "By Merlin, it's real!" Flamel exclaimed as he took out his own wand and cast several charms on the second Stone.

"Harry, even Tom would have struggled with matter creation, let alone conjuring such a complex magical artifact," Dumbledore said leadingly.

Harry shrugged. "I just have a talent, I guess. I get magic the way Einstein got physics. I don't even think about how complex the task is, I just do it. If it's any consolation, that took a third of my core to produce," Harry confessed. "So, can I keep it?"

Nicholas Flamel chuckled. "I'm very glad I stayed alive long enough to meet you, young Harry Potter. Yes, you may keep your Stone. Just guard it well, for it will soon be the only one in existence."

Harry pocketed his personal Philosopher's Stone and frowned. "You and your wife have chosen to die, then?"

"Perenelle and I are very tired. We've lived long enough. Time for the next great adventure," Nicholas said without regret or hesitance. His mind was made up.

"You'll be missed, Nicholas," Dumbledore said solemnly.

"That is the true measure of success in life, isn't it? Not riches or how long you stuck around, but the number of lives you touched," Flamel said, standing up. "Albus, always a pleasure. Harry, use that Stone well. So long!" And with that, he took a pinch of Floor powder and vanished into green flames in Dumbledore's fireplace.

Tom spoke up for the first time. "I do hope you'll be using that Stone to give me a body. Haven't I earned one by this point?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "If I make you a body with the Elixir of Life as an ingredient, you'll be born immortal, and we all know that's like giving a pyromaniac matches when it comes to you. You'll get your body as a birthday present, don't worry."

Dumbledore coughed. "Are you sure that's the wisest option, Harry?"

Harry eyed his Headmaster. "Tom is a good person. Or at least not an evil person. He'll do the wizarding world a hell of a lot more good as a full-bodied wizard than as a possessed skull. And Yule is the time for rituals of new beginnings."

*He's right, Albus,* Fawkes sang from his perch.

Dumbledore sighed and sipped his tea. "Forgive me. For the longest time, I believed Tom to be irredeemable. I'm most glad to be proven wrong, but it takes some convincing for my old mind."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I may be Slytherin to the core, but that doesn't make me bad. I'll be sure to listen to your advice when I'm Minister for Magic, assuming you're still around."

"And I suppose you expect me to fund your campaign with my new Stone?" Harry asked challengingly.

"Got to use it for SOMETHING, right?" Tom countered.

Albus chuckled. "The three of us should make a fearsome force for change. It's just a shame it'll take seven years for Harry to graduate and join the game as more than a financier."

"That just gives you two a head start to set things up for when I get there and can throw my Boy-Who-Lived mojo around," Harry said with a grin. "So, professor, anything else you wanted to discuss this morning?"

"I am somewhat curious as to what Tom used to house the fragments of his soul. Do you still have them all?" Harry asked.

Harry smacked his head. "Knew I forgot something! Be right back!" Harry poofed to inside his trunk and opened the safe and drew out three items before proofing back to Dumbledore's office.

The elderly wizard had a delightfully bemused expression on his face. "That was not Apparition, was it?"

"I call if poofing. I can show you how later if you want. Anyway, three heirlooms of the Founders: Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's chalice. If you happen to know where to find Gryffindor's sword, we'd have a museum case ready," Harry said, laying the items on Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore eyed them all with boyish interest, happy as a clam to see pieces of history before him. "I believe a Gryffindor can pull it out of the Sorting Hat when they have true need of it."

Harry waved his hand and Summoned the Sorting Hat. Peering inside, Harry reached around and tripped the magical switch he found hidden in the workings of the Hat. A silver handle appeared in his hand and Harry pulled out the sword of Godric Gryffindor. "There we are. Just took a Slytherin with Mage Sight, apparently."

Dumbledore chuckled even as Tom sighed. "I suppose the Award Room shall have a new display soon," Dumbledore said as Harry laid the goblin-forged silver blade on the Headmaster's desk.

"A Slytherin drew Gryffindor's sword. This is some kind of blasphemy," Tom muttered.

"The other two Horcruxes?" Dumbledore inquired.

"The Gaunt Family ring, which had the Resurrection Stone set in it, not that Tom knew. And his school diary," Harry answered.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "Harry… I don't suppose I could examine the Stone, just for a few moments."

Harry sighed and pulled the Stone from his pocket. "Fine, say you're sorry for getting your sister killed. But I don't think it counts as becoming Master of Death unless you're wearing the Cloak while holding the Stone and Wand."

"You must tell me where you got your sources, Tom," Dumbledore said as he took the Resurrection Stone in hand. He turned it three times and Harry noticed an invisible to him magical presence appear at Dumbledore's side. "Oh, Ariana," Dumbledore breathed out.

Harry stuck his fingers in his ears to provide some semblance of privacy. Dumbledore spoke for a few minutes back and forth with the spirit of his lost sister, and then he set the Stone back on the table. Harry took his fingers out and retrieved the Stone, setting it in the opposite pocket from his Philosopher's Stone. "Thank you, Harry. You've given me a gift I'll never be able to repay."

Harry shrugged. "Happy I could give you catharsis. Now all you need is to make up with Aberforth and for Gellert to get conjugal visits."

Dumbledore blushed. "We're both a bit old for that method of expressing love. I already visit him every time I attend the International Wizard Confederation meetings."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever, you do you. Thank you for letting me meet Mr. Flamel, Professor. See you at DADA class tomorrow!" With that, Harry left the room and made for the Room of Requirement.

Harry walked back and forth three times in front of the wall, asking for the room his friends were using. The door appeared and Harry walked into a scene out of a tropical postcard. Palm trees swayed on a sandy beach leading to a cool, blue pool designed to mimic the appearance of the ocean. His friends were all in bathing suits and laughing as they engaged in beach fun.

"Hi, Harry!" Hermione called out, running up to him.

"I see you've been getting creative with the room. Not bad at all. Where do I change?" Harry asked with a grin.

The Ravenclaw waved at a striped changing tent near the 'wall' which was painted to look like a continuation of the beach. "Over there, there should be a suit your size in there."

Harry quickly got changed, casting protection charms over his clothes out of habit, and joined his friends in their impromptu day at the beach. They made sand castles, Harry cheating by using magic to make a sand Hogwarts. They laughed and swam in the water which was actually salty. They played a few games of beach volleyball once Hermione and Harry had taught the rules to their wizard friends. Finally, they passed out exhausted on the sand.

"So, Harry, what did Dumbledore want with you?" Neville asked when they sat back up.

Harry grinned bright as the sun. "Nicholas Flamel came to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. He let me study it, and I conjured my own copy! Isn't that great?"

Daphne snapped her neck looking at Harry. "Wait… you conjured a copy? Just like that?"

"Yeah. Think the Gemino Charm but permanent. I used by magic to fold matter and energy into the same thing as the Philosopher's Stone and got my own version. What's wrong with that?" Harry asked.

"You do realize that permanent Conjuration is considered one of the pinnacles of magical ability, right?" Blaise asked incredulous. "And that's for stuff like armchairs, let alone a Philosopher's Stone."

Harry Summoned the Stone from his pocket and tossed it on the sand in between them all. "Check it yourselves if you don't believe me."

The five 11-year-olds stared at the Stone like it was, well, a Philosopher's Stone. "We need something metal!" Ron cried out. The Room promptly produced an old pewter cauldron. With cautious reverence, Ron took the Stone and touched it to the cauldron. There was a small 'zap' of magical energy and then the whole cauldron was gleaming bright yellow in the light.

"Jesus! Harry, do you realize what this means?" Hermione demanded.

"That I could oversaturate the gold market by visiting a junkyard and I have access to a panacea so long as I have access to water?" Harry asked rhetorically. "It's a Philosopher's Stone, you guys, I'm aware of how lucrative it is. And you're all welcome to use it, so long as you ask me permission first."

Ron had Galleons in his eyes. "Harry, please, oh please, let me have some gold. My family could really use it!"

Harry grinned. "I'll be sure to make your birthday present something your family will talk about for years to come."

They all gushed over the Stone for a few more minutes and then got back to regular beach shenanigans. They finally rinsed off and changed back into robes at the dinner bell, having thoroughly enjoyed their Sunday. Harry ate and then decided on an early night, making it to his room and locking both Stones in the safe in his trunk. That done, he talked with Tom a little while before getting ready for bed.

The next week passed unremarkably. On Saturday, Harry attended the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw game to see what it was like to be in the stands for once. The game eventually went to Hufflepuff, the fourth-year Seeker Cedric Diggory proving victorious. Harry was sad to see Cho Chang lose, but Cedric was a decent guy from what Neville told. And unless Harry was very much mistaken, he thought he saw a spark between the two Seekers. So both were out of the running in his personal quest for romance.

Harry consoled himself that afternoon by, under Snape's supervision, producing a cauldron full of Elixir of Life and going about trying to reverse-engineer it. If they could come up with an actual recipe instead of 'dunk Philosopher's Stone in water', they'd go down in Potions history. Harry and Snape cast every analytical spell on the reddish-gold liquid they could, Harry making detailed notes on what he saw with his Mage Sight. Then they set about separating it into ten batches and slating each one for a different experiment to work out the make-up of the potion. Harry only wished that the wizarding world had the equivalent of a mass spectrometer.

On the fourth week of November, the Hogwarts students got a bit of a shock when there was a new face at the Head Table. Harry blinked as he recognized the man from memories Tom had witnessed when Legillimensing Pettigrew. He walked right up to the Head Table and asked "Uncle Moony?"

Remus Lupin jumped like a muggle who'd just seen a ghost. "Harry… I'm surprised you recognized me."

"I have Occlumency, I remember when I was one. You used to play with me all the time!" Harry said brightly. "And now I suppose you're our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Yes. Albus offered me the post very suddenly. Shame about what happened to Quirrell. Possessed by a spirit, he said at his trial. Still, he did terrible things and he paid the price for them," the werewolf said decisively.

Harry nodded. "Well, looking forward to your class. Maybe we can catch up sometime. See you, Professor Lupin!" Harry waved before going to the Table where his friends had gathered.

"How do you know the new professor?" Hermione asked.

"He's one of the Marauders, my dad's old band of friends. He was supposed to be like an uncle to me, but then the whole Voldemort thing happened and I was sent to live with the Dursleys. Nice to see him now, and I'll definitely have to lift the curse on the DADA position. He could use a steady job," Harry told the group.

"No kidding, he looks poor as a churchmouse," Neville commented, eyeing the patchy robes Lupin was wearing.

"A Marauder? The twins won't be able to help themselves. They'll double their pranking to try and impress him!" Ron said with horror.

Daphne shuddered at the prospect. "Surely he'll put a stop to them? I mean, he's a professor now."

"Once a Marauder, always a Marauder," Harry said with a shrug. "Coin toss whether he nips it in the bud or gives them pointers."

Blaise gulped. "Harry, you'll protect us from the twins, right?"

"If you ask nicely. Though the ability to laugh at yourself is said to be key to a fully-lived life," Harry said airily.

The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs endured their weekly nap session with Professor Binns that Monday morning, followed by their first lesson with Professor Lupin. He started the class by introducing himself and asking a bit about every one of them. That done, he gave them a defensive spell to practice on balloons he'd magically filled. They all had lots of fun trying to pop the balloons before they reached the ceiling, not often getting the chance to just let loose and cast. The lesson ended with a brief homework assignment and an instruction to practice on their own time. They all walked away feeling that Defense Against the Dark Arts would be much more fun with Lupin as the professor.

The month of November passed and December came with a flurry of snow and harsh winds. Most began to wear layers under their school robes, carrying mittens and extra socks in their pockets. The post owls needed tending to by Hagrid before they went back off, battering by the harsh Scottish winter. All except for Hedwig; she was so bolstered by the Familiar Bond with Harry that she had the raw magic to disregard the elements. Harry got some very exciting news about a week before term was set to end.

"My cousin was born! It's a girl! Violet Petunia Dursley!" Harry said, waving a baby picture of an exhausted but smiling Petunia in a hospital bed, cradling a pink-headed bundle. Uncle Vernon and Dudley stood off to the side smiling proudly and excitedly.

"Oh, Dudley looks so happy to be a big brother," Hermione remarked with a blush that could have been blamed on the cold air of the Great Hall. Harry declined to comment on the possibility that his first (human) friend fancied his cousin.

"The photograph isn't moving… weird," Blaise said when he got a turn to look.

"It's a muggle photo, Blaise, of course it's still. You really look nothing like your family, Harry," Daphne commented.

"I took after my dad in every way except for the eyes. Not a lot of Evans in me, and only half in Dudley and Violet," Harry explained.

"I told my mum that your aunt was expecting. They might be getting a bunch of hand-knitted baby clothes in the muggle mail," Ron warned his friend.

"That's sweet. I'll have to thank your Mum when I visit over the holidays," Harry said.

"Change of plans, my parents and Ginny are taking a trip to Romania to see Charlie. I'll be staying here," Ron said with a shrug.

"Oh, sorry, Ron. The rest of us are all going home. Are you going to be okay?" Neville asked, concerned.

The Gryffindor sighed. "It won't be so bad. I'll have the twins and Percy to hang out with. Maybe we can use this opportunity to get some brotherly bonding… oh, who am I kidding? I'm just going to play chess with whoever agrees to play me."

"I hear Professor McGonagall was a bit of chess prodigy. You might as well ask her. I mean, she is your Head of House, she should make time to bond with her students," Harry argued.

"Malfoy at 8 o'clock," Blaise muttered as the blond aristocrat strolled over, flanked as always by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy looked like he'd been forced to suck a lemon.

"Harry Potter, I cordially invite you to my family's Yule Ball, to be held at 8:00 pm on December 24th. Dress robes are expected. One guest is allowed. No RSVP is required. We'll all be happy to see you there," Draco said through gritted teeth.

Harry nodded back. "I'll be pleased to be there, Draco. Do send my best wishes to your parents."

Duty done, Draco retreated back to the Slytherin Table, which he refused to eat anywhere but. Pansy Parkinson, his personal cheerleader, welcomed him with a grin as the two thugs returned to their third helpings of breakfast.

"I know that Tom is just Tom and not You-Know-Who anymore, but is it still wise to wander into the house of a Death Eater unaccompanied?" Hermione hissed once Draco was out of earshot.

Harry rose a brow. "Who said I'll be unaccompanied? I think it's high time Sirius had an outing from St. Mungo's, don't you?"

* * *

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